Chapter Seven: What About the Rum?!
Jack lay in his bed, feeling miserable. He could feel the poison creeping in his veins, pumping through his heart, weakening him with every circuit. He could still walk to the dock and back, but barely. It was getting harder and harder to pull his weary body out of bed. Gods, he thought, and then realized that the plural was quite accurate. There was more than one god...there used to be many, but now that number had been whittled down to two--three if the Being that had made his life a little bit longer counted as a god. He scratched that thought. It was only two. The Being was something beyond the gods, was the Aether itself if Arianne and Y'lorani were to be believed. Gasping for air, he decided to stop trying to think so much. It was exhausting.
Eventually he realized that he was not alone, and somehow he knew that he hadn't been alone for some time. "What do you want?" he asked wearily, thinking it was perhaps Pur'a'ti come back to check on him.
"I want you to live," Reanna said.
He turned towards her immediately, surprised that she was awake so late.
"I don't want you to die, Da, I don't know what I'll do without you." Her voice shook with barely suppressed tears.
"Reanna, there's nothing we can do about this," he reminded her gently.
"I know, Da, but...but I hate seeing you lay there, you're so weak, you've always been so strong. How could this have happened?"
"I don't know, love, but you'll find out some day," he replied, and knew in that moment that he spoke the truth. Perhaps near-death gave him a bit of clairvoyance, he mused absently.
"I will make him regret this, Da, I swear I will," she said, her voice hard with anger and grief.
"That's all well and good, love, but remember that you might regret your actions if you let yourself get out of hand," he warned, more than a little alarmed at her vow of revenge. He remembered the fires, and knew that if Reanna were to be angry when she called to the flames they would likely consume everything within a ten-mile radius.
"I won't get out of hand, Da," she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "I promise. I only want to get them back for what they've done to you and to Mother."
"What do you mean, what they've done to your mother?" he asked, sensing that there was something deeper here than just Arianne's grief over his death that was soon to come.
"I...I saw Mama drinking, Da. She wasn't drinking rum, I think it might have been whiskey."
Jack made a face at the mention of the whiskey, but saw nothing to be concerned about. "So she was drinking...she's been known to do that from time to time."
"She was drunk, Da. She was laughing one moment, and crying the next." Reanna shuddered. "The laughing was awful," she whispered.
He laid his head back against the pillow, thinking. So Arianne was drinking herself into a stupor now, eh? And with whiskey, no less! Whiskey! What about the rum?!
He shook his head, remembering that WHAT Arianne was drinking wasn't as important as how much she was drinking. He had known for some time that she drank some liquor before she went to sleep at night, but he had never thought that she would drink to such excess. So this was where some of that extra money was going. When he thought about it, she had been buying more than usual for the past two years. He hadn't thought that she was so distraught that she needed to get herself drunk every night just to go to sleep, but apparently this was precisely the case.
"Da?" he heard Reanna saying, her voice filled with worry.
"I'm fine, darling, just thinking," he said, and realized that he had suddenly become exhausted. "Reanna, I'm tired...I think I need to go to sleep," he said, barely whispering as his eyelids slowly closed. He heard his door open and close and then knew no more.
**
Later, she sat on the roof again, staring up at the stars and humming the greeting. She knew that something was different about the stars this night, but she could not quite figure out what it was. She didn't feel quite as uplifted as she usually did, and Queen Moon didn't seem as happy this night as she watched her subjects dance across the great ball room that was the sky. Everything seemed lifeless, but she could not figure out why.
She sighed, unable to unearth the memory that would tell her what was wrong, and finished humming her serenade. Then, feeling inexplicably sorrowful, she climbed back into the house and slept the last couple hours of the night away.
**
Mr. Gibbs lifted his mug for another toast to his new friend who bought the drinks. He was in Tortuga that night, drowning his sorrows in an ocean of rum. He was deep in his cups when a man had joined him at his solitary table and offered to buy him some more rum.
If Mr. Gibbs had been able to see clearly beyond his own nose, he might have noticed that the man only had one eye, that he was bald, and that he seemed unnaturally interested in details about Captain Jack Sparrow.
He was in the middle of the story of the curse of the treasure of Cortez when his new friend interrupted him and asked where Jack was now. He answered truthfully, of course, and the man smiled grimly in satisfaction. But of course, Mr. Gibbs didn't see this, nor did he suspect that anything was wrong. He even offered to show this strange new friend Jack's island and his beautiful wife and daughter.
Then Mr. Gibbs remembered that Jack was dying and started weeping. The man waved the barkeep over to get Mr. Gibbs some more rum, asking him what was wrong. When Mr. Gibbs had spilled the entire story--what little he knew of it besides that Jack was dying due to some poison--the man nodded in sympathy and mentioned that he knew the antidotes to several different types of poison.
He didn't know antidotes that would cure a person of the poison, but he did know how to quickly end the suffering. He grinned wickedly as poor Mr. Gibbs wept and drank his rum. He would have to remain close to this one, to befriend him--although he suspected that he was already a priceless friend for buying the drunkard all that rum. He frowned. The man seemed to absorb liquor like a sponge, it was revolting.
When Mr. Gibbs began to sing a loud and rowdy chorus of "A Pirate's Life for Me," the seer decided that it was time to put Mr. Gibbs to sleep. He pretended to be drunk and hooked his arm under Mr. Gibbs' and led him up the stairs to a room he had previously rented for the night. The second they crossed the threshold, he broke a bottle of beer over Mr. Gibbs' head.
The man dropped like a stone.
************************************************************************
Alrighty, that's seven chapters posted in six days! Wow this is going well! To answer a question, here:
Tracy-Arianne became a goddess in the second story of this trilogy, it was called The Fountain of Youth.
Thanks for the reviews, guys, I'm flattered!
Jack lay in his bed, feeling miserable. He could feel the poison creeping in his veins, pumping through his heart, weakening him with every circuit. He could still walk to the dock and back, but barely. It was getting harder and harder to pull his weary body out of bed. Gods, he thought, and then realized that the plural was quite accurate. There was more than one god...there used to be many, but now that number had been whittled down to two--three if the Being that had made his life a little bit longer counted as a god. He scratched that thought. It was only two. The Being was something beyond the gods, was the Aether itself if Arianne and Y'lorani were to be believed. Gasping for air, he decided to stop trying to think so much. It was exhausting.
Eventually he realized that he was not alone, and somehow he knew that he hadn't been alone for some time. "What do you want?" he asked wearily, thinking it was perhaps Pur'a'ti come back to check on him.
"I want you to live," Reanna said.
He turned towards her immediately, surprised that she was awake so late.
"I don't want you to die, Da, I don't know what I'll do without you." Her voice shook with barely suppressed tears.
"Reanna, there's nothing we can do about this," he reminded her gently.
"I know, Da, but...but I hate seeing you lay there, you're so weak, you've always been so strong. How could this have happened?"
"I don't know, love, but you'll find out some day," he replied, and knew in that moment that he spoke the truth. Perhaps near-death gave him a bit of clairvoyance, he mused absently.
"I will make him regret this, Da, I swear I will," she said, her voice hard with anger and grief.
"That's all well and good, love, but remember that you might regret your actions if you let yourself get out of hand," he warned, more than a little alarmed at her vow of revenge. He remembered the fires, and knew that if Reanna were to be angry when she called to the flames they would likely consume everything within a ten-mile radius.
"I won't get out of hand, Da," she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "I promise. I only want to get them back for what they've done to you and to Mother."
"What do you mean, what they've done to your mother?" he asked, sensing that there was something deeper here than just Arianne's grief over his death that was soon to come.
"I...I saw Mama drinking, Da. She wasn't drinking rum, I think it might have been whiskey."
Jack made a face at the mention of the whiskey, but saw nothing to be concerned about. "So she was drinking...she's been known to do that from time to time."
"She was drunk, Da. She was laughing one moment, and crying the next." Reanna shuddered. "The laughing was awful," she whispered.
He laid his head back against the pillow, thinking. So Arianne was drinking herself into a stupor now, eh? And with whiskey, no less! Whiskey! What about the rum?!
He shook his head, remembering that WHAT Arianne was drinking wasn't as important as how much she was drinking. He had known for some time that she drank some liquor before she went to sleep at night, but he had never thought that she would drink to such excess. So this was where some of that extra money was going. When he thought about it, she had been buying more than usual for the past two years. He hadn't thought that she was so distraught that she needed to get herself drunk every night just to go to sleep, but apparently this was precisely the case.
"Da?" he heard Reanna saying, her voice filled with worry.
"I'm fine, darling, just thinking," he said, and realized that he had suddenly become exhausted. "Reanna, I'm tired...I think I need to go to sleep," he said, barely whispering as his eyelids slowly closed. He heard his door open and close and then knew no more.
**
Later, she sat on the roof again, staring up at the stars and humming the greeting. She knew that something was different about the stars this night, but she could not quite figure out what it was. She didn't feel quite as uplifted as she usually did, and Queen Moon didn't seem as happy this night as she watched her subjects dance across the great ball room that was the sky. Everything seemed lifeless, but she could not figure out why.
She sighed, unable to unearth the memory that would tell her what was wrong, and finished humming her serenade. Then, feeling inexplicably sorrowful, she climbed back into the house and slept the last couple hours of the night away.
**
Mr. Gibbs lifted his mug for another toast to his new friend who bought the drinks. He was in Tortuga that night, drowning his sorrows in an ocean of rum. He was deep in his cups when a man had joined him at his solitary table and offered to buy him some more rum.
If Mr. Gibbs had been able to see clearly beyond his own nose, he might have noticed that the man only had one eye, that he was bald, and that he seemed unnaturally interested in details about Captain Jack Sparrow.
He was in the middle of the story of the curse of the treasure of Cortez when his new friend interrupted him and asked where Jack was now. He answered truthfully, of course, and the man smiled grimly in satisfaction. But of course, Mr. Gibbs didn't see this, nor did he suspect that anything was wrong. He even offered to show this strange new friend Jack's island and his beautiful wife and daughter.
Then Mr. Gibbs remembered that Jack was dying and started weeping. The man waved the barkeep over to get Mr. Gibbs some more rum, asking him what was wrong. When Mr. Gibbs had spilled the entire story--what little he knew of it besides that Jack was dying due to some poison--the man nodded in sympathy and mentioned that he knew the antidotes to several different types of poison.
He didn't know antidotes that would cure a person of the poison, but he did know how to quickly end the suffering. He grinned wickedly as poor Mr. Gibbs wept and drank his rum. He would have to remain close to this one, to befriend him--although he suspected that he was already a priceless friend for buying the drunkard all that rum. He frowned. The man seemed to absorb liquor like a sponge, it was revolting.
When Mr. Gibbs began to sing a loud and rowdy chorus of "A Pirate's Life for Me," the seer decided that it was time to put Mr. Gibbs to sleep. He pretended to be drunk and hooked his arm under Mr. Gibbs' and led him up the stairs to a room he had previously rented for the night. The second they crossed the threshold, he broke a bottle of beer over Mr. Gibbs' head.
The man dropped like a stone.
************************************************************************
Alrighty, that's seven chapters posted in six days! Wow this is going well! To answer a question, here:
Tracy-Arianne became a goddess in the second story of this trilogy, it was called The Fountain of Youth.
Thanks for the reviews, guys, I'm flattered!