-miffed face- Well people, I know I took a long time, but I did tell you
that I was going to be gone for a while. Anyway, here's a tip: the font
looks SO much better if you size it down one, or two up if you can't read
small print.
****
Meg traipsed back down to the now eerily quiet lower decks; she didn't notice where she was schlepping to exactly, not until she found herself planted in front of the galley door.
On second thought, she seemed to be going to the galley an awful lot these days. And every time Jacques seemed to plant a whole lot of skeptical thoughts in her mind, something that she couldn't exactly say that she was enjoying.
But then again Jacques was probably the only other person onboard right now, and she was not exactly prepared to go running around alone. At the very thought Meg propelled a startled glance back around at the dark hallway and slipped into the galley.
Jacques was there, all right. He was holding up a bottle of what seemed to be alcohol and inspecting it closely. He looked at her placidly and then turned back to the rum bottle. "Do they like this?" he asked, putting stress on 'like'.
"How am I supposed to know?" Meg folded herself grumpily onto the stool, as Jacques was seated on the floor. At least Jack talked to her face, not at a bottler.
"They'll be back tomorrow morning," said Jacques, his grey eyes eerily slipping over Meg's form, presenting the illusion that he could read her soul just as easily as he had read her mind. "They always are."
Meg felt suddenly sorry for Jacques, always left behind, the dimwit of the ship. Or perhaps not as dimwitted as he seemed. "You don't ever seem to do much cooking," she noted. She ate in Jack's cabin mostly, so she never came down to beg food, but she did find it odd that there never seemed to be any food there.
"You always come at the wrong times." Jacques' grey eyes glared.
"Right. Well. I'll be going now," she whispered, swallowing hard.
In a flurry of skirts, golden hair and uncoordinated feet, she dashed up to the deck. Without sparing the noisy town of Tortuga a glance, she pulled back her hair and was promptly sick over the side.
She rocked back and forth on her heels, arms wrapped miserably about herself. Her eyes filled with salty liquid that splashed over and down her pale cheeks, and her willowy torso was racked with cruel sobs.
The crew was gone, Jack was gone, into that heathen city; Jacques frightened her with those grey eyes of his, and she was alone for the first time in her life. Megaera Alix Kentsworth - what was a name? A title. But it was who she was. and here, here on this horrid, awful pirate ship with its ugly black sails, all of that was stripped of her, and she was only Meg, Meg flapping about in her little gown, from kitchens to cabin and back again. It was a horrible existence. Trapped! she was trapped, a fury-bird aboard a pirate ship. The avenger. Her lungs spat forth a raw laugh; she seemed to have been avenged herself!
It was a little while before she collapsed backwards, the lily maid of Tortuga, delicate eyelids closed tightly over fragile eyes; eyes that saw what they wished they hadn't; arms draped over her torso protectively, golden tresses splayed out behind her head and slightly across her face. Slumber, the temporary death - so sweet! - overtook her senses, and she was mercifully spared of dreams which would no doubt have been nightmares.
She awoke suddenly - light was glowing directly in her face and it was blinding her - she sat up and that certain light was gone, but it was no longer dark by any counts.
It was early morning, soon after dawn. She was on her bed in Jack's cabin, something she was puzzling over when in came Captain Sparrow himself.
"Hello, love," he said casually. "Sleep well?"
Meg blinked sleep from her eyes and rose, stumbling slightly. "Well." she paused. "Did you - did you -"
"I brought you in here, yes," Jack said easily. "Didn't feel the need to let the crew tromp all over you, savvy?"
"I see," Meg muttered. She couldn't come up with anything else because her cheeks and head were burning at the thought of Jack Sparrow carrying her in here.
"We'll be stopping by to see some friends of mine," the captain informed her. "We set sail early, in case you were wondering, and we'll probably make it there around noon."
Meg wondered what sort of friends he was speaking of and envisioned a large, fat woman with a mean face and a stringy man with a ratlike head. So it came as a surprise when a young couple came aboard a few hours later. She had been right about the man-woman thing; but everything else, she had been dead wrong.
Meg fidgeted a little. She was glad that she'd cleaned off her dress and plaited her hair now; she'd wanted to make a good impression before, but now she really wanted to. She eyed the couple once more. The man was well- built with dark hair; and the brunette woman was pretty and golden-skinned.
"Lass," Jack brought his hands together, "Meet Will Turner and his wife Elizabeth."
"Pleased to meet you," Meg murmured, dipping a curtsy. She missed the odd look that Elizabeth gave her.
"Will and Elizabeth," Jack continued, "This is Meg, my. ah.mistress."
Meg felt herself turn scarlet first with embarrassment, and then fury. How dare he suggest something so crude! "More like personal assistant," she intervened smoothly.
Jack glanced at her. "In that case, more like slave."
Meg's face drained of color; positively white with fury she watched impassively as Jack led Will away to his cabin to discuss things. She was left alone with Elizabeth, who smiled at her gently.
"How did you come aboard the Black Pearl?" she asked Meg.
Meg took a breath. It was odd to see another female - she hadn't for such a long time, apart from the crew member Ana Maria - but for some reason she delivered a clipped version of her abduction and holding onboard the ship, editing out all of her rebellious feelings about being kept a captive. At the very end she burst out savagely, "And I am NOT his mistress, or his slave!"
"I can understand, Meg," said Elizabeth softly. Meg glanced at her; in many ways she resembled the mother Meg always dreamed she had. "I was once a governor's daughter."
Elizabeth's story progressed up until the point where she and Will had gotten married four months ago and Will had built a house for them on the uninhabited coast of Tortuga.
"That's amazing," Meg breathed. "You did all that?"
She was sorely disappointed when Will came up from below and, offering her a smile, took Elizabeth by the hand and left the ship. "Goodbye Meg," Elizabeth called after her.
"Farewell, Elizabeth," Meg whispered. And then, when Jack was turned the other way, she dashed below to her only safe haven.
****
Meg traipsed back down to the now eerily quiet lower decks; she didn't notice where she was schlepping to exactly, not until she found herself planted in front of the galley door.
On second thought, she seemed to be going to the galley an awful lot these days. And every time Jacques seemed to plant a whole lot of skeptical thoughts in her mind, something that she couldn't exactly say that she was enjoying.
But then again Jacques was probably the only other person onboard right now, and she was not exactly prepared to go running around alone. At the very thought Meg propelled a startled glance back around at the dark hallway and slipped into the galley.
Jacques was there, all right. He was holding up a bottle of what seemed to be alcohol and inspecting it closely. He looked at her placidly and then turned back to the rum bottle. "Do they like this?" he asked, putting stress on 'like'.
"How am I supposed to know?" Meg folded herself grumpily onto the stool, as Jacques was seated on the floor. At least Jack talked to her face, not at a bottler.
"They'll be back tomorrow morning," said Jacques, his grey eyes eerily slipping over Meg's form, presenting the illusion that he could read her soul just as easily as he had read her mind. "They always are."
Meg felt suddenly sorry for Jacques, always left behind, the dimwit of the ship. Or perhaps not as dimwitted as he seemed. "You don't ever seem to do much cooking," she noted. She ate in Jack's cabin mostly, so she never came down to beg food, but she did find it odd that there never seemed to be any food there.
"You always come at the wrong times." Jacques' grey eyes glared.
"Right. Well. I'll be going now," she whispered, swallowing hard.
In a flurry of skirts, golden hair and uncoordinated feet, she dashed up to the deck. Without sparing the noisy town of Tortuga a glance, she pulled back her hair and was promptly sick over the side.
She rocked back and forth on her heels, arms wrapped miserably about herself. Her eyes filled with salty liquid that splashed over and down her pale cheeks, and her willowy torso was racked with cruel sobs.
The crew was gone, Jack was gone, into that heathen city; Jacques frightened her with those grey eyes of his, and she was alone for the first time in her life. Megaera Alix Kentsworth - what was a name? A title. But it was who she was. and here, here on this horrid, awful pirate ship with its ugly black sails, all of that was stripped of her, and she was only Meg, Meg flapping about in her little gown, from kitchens to cabin and back again. It was a horrible existence. Trapped! she was trapped, a fury-bird aboard a pirate ship. The avenger. Her lungs spat forth a raw laugh; she seemed to have been avenged herself!
It was a little while before she collapsed backwards, the lily maid of Tortuga, delicate eyelids closed tightly over fragile eyes; eyes that saw what they wished they hadn't; arms draped over her torso protectively, golden tresses splayed out behind her head and slightly across her face. Slumber, the temporary death - so sweet! - overtook her senses, and she was mercifully spared of dreams which would no doubt have been nightmares.
She awoke suddenly - light was glowing directly in her face and it was blinding her - she sat up and that certain light was gone, but it was no longer dark by any counts.
It was early morning, soon after dawn. She was on her bed in Jack's cabin, something she was puzzling over when in came Captain Sparrow himself.
"Hello, love," he said casually. "Sleep well?"
Meg blinked sleep from her eyes and rose, stumbling slightly. "Well." she paused. "Did you - did you -"
"I brought you in here, yes," Jack said easily. "Didn't feel the need to let the crew tromp all over you, savvy?"
"I see," Meg muttered. She couldn't come up with anything else because her cheeks and head were burning at the thought of Jack Sparrow carrying her in here.
"We'll be stopping by to see some friends of mine," the captain informed her. "We set sail early, in case you were wondering, and we'll probably make it there around noon."
Meg wondered what sort of friends he was speaking of and envisioned a large, fat woman with a mean face and a stringy man with a ratlike head. So it came as a surprise when a young couple came aboard a few hours later. She had been right about the man-woman thing; but everything else, she had been dead wrong.
Meg fidgeted a little. She was glad that she'd cleaned off her dress and plaited her hair now; she'd wanted to make a good impression before, but now she really wanted to. She eyed the couple once more. The man was well- built with dark hair; and the brunette woman was pretty and golden-skinned.
"Lass," Jack brought his hands together, "Meet Will Turner and his wife Elizabeth."
"Pleased to meet you," Meg murmured, dipping a curtsy. She missed the odd look that Elizabeth gave her.
"Will and Elizabeth," Jack continued, "This is Meg, my. ah.mistress."
Meg felt herself turn scarlet first with embarrassment, and then fury. How dare he suggest something so crude! "More like personal assistant," she intervened smoothly.
Jack glanced at her. "In that case, more like slave."
Meg's face drained of color; positively white with fury she watched impassively as Jack led Will away to his cabin to discuss things. She was left alone with Elizabeth, who smiled at her gently.
"How did you come aboard the Black Pearl?" she asked Meg.
Meg took a breath. It was odd to see another female - she hadn't for such a long time, apart from the crew member Ana Maria - but for some reason she delivered a clipped version of her abduction and holding onboard the ship, editing out all of her rebellious feelings about being kept a captive. At the very end she burst out savagely, "And I am NOT his mistress, or his slave!"
"I can understand, Meg," said Elizabeth softly. Meg glanced at her; in many ways she resembled the mother Meg always dreamed she had. "I was once a governor's daughter."
Elizabeth's story progressed up until the point where she and Will had gotten married four months ago and Will had built a house for them on the uninhabited coast of Tortuga.
"That's amazing," Meg breathed. "You did all that?"
She was sorely disappointed when Will came up from below and, offering her a smile, took Elizabeth by the hand and left the ship. "Goodbye Meg," Elizabeth called after her.
"Farewell, Elizabeth," Meg whispered. And then, when Jack was turned the other way, she dashed below to her only safe haven.