AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reviews/feedback are much, much, much appreciated and will
help shape the direction of this story. Does it need to speed up? Stay slow-
moving and descriptive? Please let me know what you think! -tris
______________________________ONWITHTHESTORYchapterthree:
Jack smirked at her reaction to his sword. "Relax, darling. Do you really think that after going to so much trouble to save ye, I'm gonna kill ye? Yer a brave little lass if I do say so meself, lookin' so evilly at a pirate like me."
He watched as she finally squeezed her eyes shut and a tear rolled down her cheek. While she wasn't looking, he snuck around behind the tree. "Don't move." He said sternly, preparing for an attempt to cut her free. She froze, probably in fear. He saw her shudder as the blade struck the tree.
When she felt her free hands she toppled to the ground, unmoving. Jack suddenly felt a slight pang of guilt. He shoved it to the back of his mind but stood over the girl, contemplating whether or not he should try to help her further or leave her be. He crouched down over her trembling body and extended his right hand towards her. "Lass," he said gently. "Let me help ye git down to the fire, eh?"
No response.
Shrugging, he bent over and carefully scooped her up into his arms. She didn't move as he carried her toward the beach and her arms hung lifelessly from his hold. Once he reached the fire he'd built, he laid her down near it, using his rolled-up coat as a cushion for her head. "You are NOT going to die on me now, lass, you hear me?" He said sternly as he checked her pulse and made sure she was still breathing easily. She didn't stir and he could see that her skin was a paler, clammier shade that it probably should have been. He felt her forehead and touched her bare feet. No fever. Thank god. He didn't want to have to deal with some sort of fever. He wanted to help this girl, that was for sure; but he couldn't risk catching a fever and dying himself.
Jack sighed. He hadn't swam "halfway across the ocean" to rescue her as he said he had, but it damn well felt like it. He'd abandoned his own ship and his crew when he saw her floating near a bed of rocks. She appeared to still be alive, so he went after her. Well, his crew had abandoned HIM, it seemed. They'd just left him there, sailed away as he swam towards her. "Same bloody island as before," he muttered. "3 times, THREE TIMES!" He knew his crew had done what was right by them and he expected nothing less, but had hoped for something more.
He sighed and looked over at Aria. As he looked at her this time, he finally began to look over her as more than a "damsel in distress." His eyes ran over her long, slender feet and her even longer, slender legs, the moonlight shimmering over her vibrant skin. The loose, black knickers she had on covered her legs from her knees up. He'd had to re-assemble her once he got her to shore. He chuckled as he thought of how much more upset she'd have been if he hadn't put her strange clothes back on her best he could. He'd covered her up and that's what mattered. Didn't really think much of it, anyway. His eyes drifted over her belly, the two bits of jewelry stuck in her navel. His eyes flit across her modest chest, the black-and-white material contrasting well against her skin. Her shoulders were very thin but sort of broad, making her look stronger than she probably was.
He gazed down on her face and noticed that she was rather beautiful, but in a very odd way. Her nose came to a bit of a point and her cheekbones seemed to set unevenly, but her resting face held such a spirit, a glow that made her imperfections so very beautiful. Her long, wavy chocolate hair lay askew, flowing down past his coat and onto the sand.
In the moonlight and even with the light of the fire it was difficult to see the wounds that blemished her otherwise perfect skin. His eyes again wandered down to her waist and his fingers absentmindedly moved toward the silver hoop on the upper part of her navel, then running across her smooth skin over the silver peg-like thing on the lower part of her navel. He'd seen some odd body decór before but never anything like this. It struck him rather attractive.
He was startled as she opened her eyes and let out a weak cry.
"Oh. Uh, sorry love. You had a spider crawling 'cross your belly, is all," he feebly lied, quickly relieving her of his touch. "Please stop fretting, darling, just rest up till we can figure out how to get off this 'ere spit of land."
She looked at him fearfully but found no words to spit back at him.
"I know you don't trust me, love, and I don't entirely trust you. Now unless you want to live-and DIE-here, you've got to 'elp me out 'ere. We'll get you well again but PLEASE don't do anything stupid."
Her eyelids drooped heavily over her eyes and she weakly nodded. "Do you have any water?" She whispered, too tired to fight back, whatever she was fighting for. Jack swaggered over to the nearest tree and picked up the canteen he'd had strapped inside his coat.
"I don't 'ave much, lass, so be sure not to drink too much, alright?" He muttered. "Now you rest your pretty little head some more while old Jack figgers a way to get us off this bloody island." He let her drink from the canteen and guided her head back to its resting place, watching as her eyes slid shut again. Jack lay down next to her and drifted off to sleep himself.
Jack smirked at her reaction to his sword. "Relax, darling. Do you really think that after going to so much trouble to save ye, I'm gonna kill ye? Yer a brave little lass if I do say so meself, lookin' so evilly at a pirate like me."
He watched as she finally squeezed her eyes shut and a tear rolled down her cheek. While she wasn't looking, he snuck around behind the tree. "Don't move." He said sternly, preparing for an attempt to cut her free. She froze, probably in fear. He saw her shudder as the blade struck the tree.
When she felt her free hands she toppled to the ground, unmoving. Jack suddenly felt a slight pang of guilt. He shoved it to the back of his mind but stood over the girl, contemplating whether or not he should try to help her further or leave her be. He crouched down over her trembling body and extended his right hand towards her. "Lass," he said gently. "Let me help ye git down to the fire, eh?"
No response.
Shrugging, he bent over and carefully scooped her up into his arms. She didn't move as he carried her toward the beach and her arms hung lifelessly from his hold. Once he reached the fire he'd built, he laid her down near it, using his rolled-up coat as a cushion for her head. "You are NOT going to die on me now, lass, you hear me?" He said sternly as he checked her pulse and made sure she was still breathing easily. She didn't stir and he could see that her skin was a paler, clammier shade that it probably should have been. He felt her forehead and touched her bare feet. No fever. Thank god. He didn't want to have to deal with some sort of fever. He wanted to help this girl, that was for sure; but he couldn't risk catching a fever and dying himself.
Jack sighed. He hadn't swam "halfway across the ocean" to rescue her as he said he had, but it damn well felt like it. He'd abandoned his own ship and his crew when he saw her floating near a bed of rocks. She appeared to still be alive, so he went after her. Well, his crew had abandoned HIM, it seemed. They'd just left him there, sailed away as he swam towards her. "Same bloody island as before," he muttered. "3 times, THREE TIMES!" He knew his crew had done what was right by them and he expected nothing less, but had hoped for something more.
He sighed and looked over at Aria. As he looked at her this time, he finally began to look over her as more than a "damsel in distress." His eyes ran over her long, slender feet and her even longer, slender legs, the moonlight shimmering over her vibrant skin. The loose, black knickers she had on covered her legs from her knees up. He'd had to re-assemble her once he got her to shore. He chuckled as he thought of how much more upset she'd have been if he hadn't put her strange clothes back on her best he could. He'd covered her up and that's what mattered. Didn't really think much of it, anyway. His eyes drifted over her belly, the two bits of jewelry stuck in her navel. His eyes flit across her modest chest, the black-and-white material contrasting well against her skin. Her shoulders were very thin but sort of broad, making her look stronger than she probably was.
He gazed down on her face and noticed that she was rather beautiful, but in a very odd way. Her nose came to a bit of a point and her cheekbones seemed to set unevenly, but her resting face held such a spirit, a glow that made her imperfections so very beautiful. Her long, wavy chocolate hair lay askew, flowing down past his coat and onto the sand.
In the moonlight and even with the light of the fire it was difficult to see the wounds that blemished her otherwise perfect skin. His eyes again wandered down to her waist and his fingers absentmindedly moved toward the silver hoop on the upper part of her navel, then running across her smooth skin over the silver peg-like thing on the lower part of her navel. He'd seen some odd body decór before but never anything like this. It struck him rather attractive.
He was startled as she opened her eyes and let out a weak cry.
"Oh. Uh, sorry love. You had a spider crawling 'cross your belly, is all," he feebly lied, quickly relieving her of his touch. "Please stop fretting, darling, just rest up till we can figure out how to get off this 'ere spit of land."
She looked at him fearfully but found no words to spit back at him.
"I know you don't trust me, love, and I don't entirely trust you. Now unless you want to live-and DIE-here, you've got to 'elp me out 'ere. We'll get you well again but PLEASE don't do anything stupid."
Her eyelids drooped heavily over her eyes and she weakly nodded. "Do you have any water?" She whispered, too tired to fight back, whatever she was fighting for. Jack swaggered over to the nearest tree and picked up the canteen he'd had strapped inside his coat.
"I don't 'ave much, lass, so be sure not to drink too much, alright?" He muttered. "Now you rest your pretty little head some more while old Jack figgers a way to get us off this bloody island." He let her drink from the canteen and guided her head back to its resting place, watching as her eyes slid shut again. Jack lay down next to her and drifted off to sleep himself.