A pirate's heart
Jack could smell the scent of cheap perfume wafting off of the woman striding just ahead of him. It was admittedly better than the scent of sweat, dirt and sea salt. Still, a smell like that always brought him a terrible dissatisfaction; an emptiness. Sadness was not something he allowed himself to feel anymore, he was more obliged to feel nothing at all. Hence the almost constant drunkenness; the gambling with his life; the nights and money wasted on cheap whores like the one leading him down the corridor of a seedy burlesque house to her own room.
It was the reason he needed that freedom he so valued. That horizon he chased so desperately had at last become the only place where he could find solace from the constant ache in his heart.
It was an ache for something that could never be had; never be satisfied. The thirst would never be quenched, no matter how much swag he looted, or how big a name he made for himself. Certainly he had tried those things, but to no avail. Jack Sparrow could never escape the past no matter how fast the Black Pearl sailed into the abyss of the bloodied sunset. No one ever asked why Jack was greedy, why Jack never seemed to really care for anything but that which was beneficial to him, and why should they? That's how all pirates lived, was it not?
But what about before he was Captain Jack Sparrow? What had driven Jack Sparrow to choose the path of greed and lust?
You'd not have an easy time of dragging it out of him. Nay, it was impossible. He would not sully her name with his lips, it was sacred. He hardly dared to picture her face in his mind's eye though it was difficult at times. He would have given his life for her… but had not been given the chance.
Indeed there was much more to those deep russet eyes than anyone gave him credit for. Jack Sparrow kept his heart well hidden so that no one would see…
It was not black; it was broken.
Jack could smell the scent of cheap perfume wafting off of the woman striding just ahead of him. It was admittedly better than the scent of sweat, dirt and sea salt. Still, a smell like that always brought him a terrible dissatisfaction; an emptiness. Sadness was not something he allowed himself to feel anymore, he was more obliged to feel nothing at all. Hence the almost constant drunkenness; the gambling with his life; the nights and money wasted on cheap whores like the one leading him down the corridor of a seedy burlesque house to her own room.
It was the reason he needed that freedom he so valued. That horizon he chased so desperately had at last become the only place where he could find solace from the constant ache in his heart.
It was an ache for something that could never be had; never be satisfied. The thirst would never be quenched, no matter how much swag he looted, or how big a name he made for himself. Certainly he had tried those things, but to no avail. Jack Sparrow could never escape the past no matter how fast the Black Pearl sailed into the abyss of the bloodied sunset. No one ever asked why Jack was greedy, why Jack never seemed to really care for anything but that which was beneficial to him, and why should they? That's how all pirates lived, was it not?
But what about before he was Captain Jack Sparrow? What had driven Jack Sparrow to choose the path of greed and lust?
You'd not have an easy time of dragging it out of him. Nay, it was impossible. He would not sully her name with his lips, it was sacred. He hardly dared to picture her face in his mind's eye though it was difficult at times. He would have given his life for her… but had not been given the chance.
Indeed there was much more to those deep russet eyes than anyone gave him credit for. Jack Sparrow kept his heart well hidden so that no one would see…
It was not black; it was broken.