Chapter TWO
AN: This thing seems to be uploading things weirdly.... Oh well, screw
it, I'm sure you're smart enought to figure it out on your own.
At the Port Royal picnic, Miss Elizabeth Swann was dancing a
conservative dance with Mr. Worthing, a wealthy bussiness man, when she felt
something bump into her very lightly. She pretened not to notice and tried
to focus on Mr. Worthing's face, which was getting more and more
difficult to do because he kept trying to bury his nose into her thick hair.
"Elizabeth, darling," she heard him wisper in her ear "Why don't you
lose that Turner boy and join me for a night of pleasure?"
Elizabeth couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"Are you saying that you want to... in my bedroom?" Elizabeth asked as
she was being twirled accross the perfectly green grass.
"No!" he boomed, "Don't be silly, dear. Your bedroom is too obvious.
We should try the study."
Just then, Elizabeth felt something bump into her again, except this
time with more force, and what sounded like someone saying "Sorry." from
a distants. But how could that be? If the person saying sorry was the
one who bumped into her... Elizabeth quickly jerked her head around to
have a look behind her, giving Mr. Worthing a good mouthful of her
hair. She thought she saw the air behind her some how move and change
color.
"Mr. Worthing," she said,"I'm terribly sorry, but I have to go now."
"Oh. I didn't scare you did I?" He asked, but only to appear polite.
"No. But know that if you are ever to do that again, I will have Jack
Sparrow knocking on your door."
Will was sitting with the men in a suite like the rest of them. He had
wanted to appear worthy of Elizabeth. Speaking of Elizabeth, he had
spotted her dancing with Mr. Worthing earlier and did not like it. The
man was rumored to have impregnated at least three of his maids in his
home in France. So, naturally, he was glad that she was finally out of
his arms and free to be with him.
He excused himself from the table of gentlemen and walked up behind
Elizabeth, who was looking up at the sky strangely.
"What is the matter, Elizabeth?" He said as he rested his large hand on
her sholder.
"Nothing, I just felt something touch me while I was dancing with Mr.
Worthing."
"Where did he touch you? I'll kill him, I swear."
"Will, it wasn't a touch like that."
"Oh. Well, then what was it?"
"I don't know, I was just dancing when I felt something bump into me.
I just thought it was another dancing couple. But then I felt it again
and this time, when I turned to look, there was nothing there."
"Well," he said, "Nothing to worry about. Must have been-"
But Will got cut off before he could finish, because just then, he felt
something bump into him. Then, he heard the distant apology.
Why was I bumping into every thing? And was it just me or did the
people here look a little less than normal? All the men, or at least who I
thought were the men, had white hair. Well, except for the one I just
bumped into.
Will nervously checked behind himself only to find nothing there. But
wait, there was something there. The shape of a man only a dozen
inches away from him. As the blury image began to clear, he noticed that it
wasn't a man, but a tall woman in very little clothing. He couldn't
help staring transfixed.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Elizabeth talking to the
girl. Telling the woman to follow her into the Swann mansion. The still
blury woman nodded and followed Elizabeth inside with Will trailing
behind.
"What are you?" Elizabeth asked the minute they were all locked safely
in the library.
"What am I?" the being asked, "What are YOU?"
The thing's arms and hands had become clear and looked as solid as
anything else in that room. Soon, her legs began to appear, and Elizabeth
noticed that she was in what looked like leather boots and her legs
were covered in a strange type of tights. One that was just a bunch of
threads that crisscrossed over each other. The tights seemed to go on
forever, until they hid under some kind of skirt that reached right above
her knee. Her arms and torso were covered in a hideous striped shirt
that clung to her every dent and curve. (yes, that is a Rory Gilmore
outfit, and I'm trying to describe it the way Elizabeth may have seen it.)
"I ask again, what are you?"
"And more importantly," Will began, "Where are you from?"