Disclaimer: Check Chapter One.
Author Notes: I am surprised I actually got any reviews for this, I am glad those of you that reviewed enjoyed the first chapter. I merely hope you like this one as much. Responses to the reviews at the bottom of the page, enjoy.
The Siren of Jezebel Isle
Chapter Two
The first thing that assailed my senses was an overbearing sense of numbing nausea. I jerked into a sitting position, one hand pressed firmly against my rolling belly and the other clasping my mouth shut. The unfamiliar rocking motion of the ship I had been stolen onto kindled my illness and a pained moan escaped my throat.
A cool, rounded basin appeared in my lap and I gratefully emptied my stomach into the bronze coloured material. At least, I could recognize the metal my own people used all that time ago. Shakily, I wiped my mouth with my palm and returned the bowl to the peculiar looking man watching me with liquid eyes.
"Thank you." I said simply, resigned to my fate.
If the Wyrd Sisters that threaded, wove, and cut the strands of destiny decided that my time had come, then so be it. I would go willingly and not fight like an enraged, caged beast. I could only hope that I would die with honor and not disgrace myself horribly. I merely bowed my head, the heavy locks of midnight water parting and revealing the pale flesh of the back of my neck.
He would have moved soundlessly, if not for the soft clinking of the trinkets braided into his beard. A slight shudder gripped the base of my spine as the tips of his fingers dragged along the slight bumps my spine created along the slender column of skin. And as soon as it began, the gentle touch disappeared and a rich chuckle of laughter replaced it.
"What do ye think yur doin', luv?"
My brow furrowed slightly as I raised my head, gaze trained on him. "Well, aren't you going to kill me?"
He involuntarily jerked away, surprised. "An' why would I be doin' that? Destryin' such a lovely specimen of feminine beauty such as yerself would be sinful…Like burnin' all the rum on a deserted island or sommat." Clearly, he was alluding to something that had occurred earlier in his life and I merely stared at him.
A lovely specimen of feminine beauty? How could that be possible? Yes, I did possess a voice that could bind any to me, but my physical appearance could not be all that he clearly said it was. A soft snort escaped my throat as I let the blanket covering me slip a little down the swell of my bosom.
"Well, if you aren't going to slay me, then let me go."
"'fraid I can't do that."
"Why would that be?"
"Ye'd grow ill if ye stayed on yon isle."
"And how would that come about?"
"Sommat ta do with the dead."
"Well, if I had been given the opportunity to bury my sisters in the fashion our society dictated, then there would have been no danger of contamination from their decaying cadavers."
"How could ye bury them if there wasn't soil on that rock?"
I threw him a cold glance before sliding off the edge of the bed, the blanket pooling in my lap before following me and falling onto the floor. Vaguely, in the corner of my mind, I noticed that the man before me and the women who had been there before, both wore strange articles on their personages that were extremely different than what my own people had worn before I became what I am today. I stood before him in what I was most comfortable in, my own flesh.
"Soil is not needed to lay loved ones to rest. Now, please stand aside and allow me freedom of your boat."
"Tha' Pearl is a ship, not a boat!"
"There is no difference."
The man opened his mouth in sheer outrage, but with a surprisingly and wholly confusing rapid shift, he merely shook his head before sweeping into a bow. An almost cheeky grin clung to his lips as he looked at me with eyes heavily lined with kohl. In all honesty, he wore more cosmetics that most women I had once knew. I could help but notice that his gaze continually drifted to my bared chest, lingering on the delicate swells. Honestly, did the men of the current age not hold any basic morals?
"Captain Jack Sparrow, at yer service, lass!"
"A pleasure, Captain, and I would greatly appreciate if you would stop staring at me please. My eyes happen to be higher than where your eyes loiter." He had the decency to blush slightly.
Silence reigned for a brief moment before he cleared his throat. I merely watched him, mildly amused.
"Yes?"
"Yer name?"
While I no clothes adorned me, my sisters and I had realized that such vestments were pointless on our lonely isle, an invisible mantle of pride settled onto my shoulders as I drew myself up unconsciously. While many would call me a murderess, I am not one to deny my true nature.
"My name is Jasmine of Jezebel Isle." I deemed it wise to omit my race, for knowledge of what I am might upset the man with the dangerous stick that so easily could deal death; I suddenly realized something. "You are a pirate!" I whispered the last word, horror freezing my blood.
For the years before the gods cast me from my home, those two syllables were enough to instill terror into any who heard it. I shied away from him, fear filling me as I cast a desperate glance at the closed door behind him. No matter how honorable he acted towards me, what he was frightened me to no end.
My arms slipped around my abdomen as I hugged my womb, instincts calling to protect the empty space that someday would swell with new life. My face must have betrayed my emotions for he lifted his hands in a peaceful gesture, taking several steps backwards to increase the space between us.
"Ye have nothing ta fear from me or me crew."
His words mattered little against the tide threatening to drown me and more than ever I felt the deep need to fling myself into the ocean, swimming faster than the currents to reach my home.
I was no creature that flourished solely on land, I required to silky touch of salt water over my skin and the sweet pain that accompanied the transformation of legs to fins and vice versa. My breathing began to come in quickened bursts, dread giving leeway to hyperventilation as my fingers dug into the cushioning flesh of my hips.
"Free me." I croaked, all musical qualities my voice usually fled, leaving it hoarse.
"'fraid I can' do that. We're leagues away from any land, ye'd die."
I made to lunge for the door, a sense of déjà vu settling over me as the scene playing out mirrored that of the last time consciousness held me. Instead, his hands caught me round the waist and he pulled me flush against him, my own arms flying upwards to press against his chest. He looked down at my terrified features and the faintest sigh met my ears as his head shook slightly.
"Twould be best if ye didn' try that again, lass. You bein' naked and all wouldn' sit well with tha crew. Stay down here ge' dressed, savvy? Mr. Gibbs will bring ye some vittles."
With that he gently pushed me away from his personage and I stumbled backwards onto the bed, rump landing hard on the padded surface. For a brief moment his gaze lingered hungrily on me, before he left the cabin. Before he was fully out the door, he motioned to a decent sized trunk at the foot of the bed.
"Ye'll find clothes in there." And then the door shut firmly behind him, the sound of a lock clinking following.
I sat there for some time, not bothering to hid the trembling of my shoulders as I rocked slowly. If the pirate, Sparrow, would not free me, then I would find a way to spring myself. I refused to be a captive on a godsforsaken pirate ship. I crawled along the length of the bed and pushed the lid of the trunk open. Surprise overtook me at the array of colours and fabric that assailed me and I pushed my fingers through the layers of material, seeking something that pleased me.
It did not take long, and the object of my desires was a soft violet swath of cloth that resembled nothing I remembered from my stay with humanity. I should say now, that I have never been one to allow a problem to get the better of me. That is how I viewed the entire situation, a simple problem that I had to solve. I looked at the textile pooling in my fingers and buckled down, deciding to figure how to put it on, no matter how long it took.
Dressing myself did not take as long as I would have thought and the only thing I have to say about the way that thing felt is uncomfortable. The fabric was extremely heavy and while soft to the touch, it weighed me down and had a terrible habit of causing me to trip. To say the least, had the cheeky captain been there, he would have been deeply amused.
Within moments of the clothing covering me, the door unlocked and an aging man tottered in. Clasped in his hands was a tray, the alluring aroma of new foods awakening my saliva glands. He set it down on the table that dominated the middle of the room and watched me with careful eyes. For some time our gazes were fixated on each other, he taking in my other worldly appearance and I silently willing him to look in, proving me the stronger one.
He blinked and broke the line, muttering something under his breath and rapidly leaving the room. A stab of loneliness pierced my heart as I gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles. Had I been home, on Jezebel Isle, my sisters would not have been far away. Never since we had been ostracized from the rest of humanity had I ever spent even a few minutes without someone I cared for within reach.
Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and my legs began to tremble as a soft whimper escaped me. I had been able to live without my parents, extended family, and friends, but existence without the two other girls who had grown with me in the same womb, nurtured by our mother at the same time as she housed us within her own body, my life became obsolete.
It took but a moment for her knees to give out and she crumpled into a heap of quivering flesh and wrinkling material. My hands flew up and cradled my face, crying piteously into my palms. Choked sobs spilled from between my fingers as I tried to close the valve that freed my grief, though it was to no avail. A hoarse wail wound around the room, an animalistic noise that most would be hard pressed to discern that it came from humanoid vocal chords.
My tears continued to stream down my face as my hands fell in nerveless heaps in my lap and I leaned against the sturdy frame of the bed behind me. There was only one thing I could do for my fallen siblings now that a proper burial was completely out of the question. A deep breath filled my aching lungs as the first song I crooned alone filled the space I had been locked in.
While the actual words that came from me escape me, what filled the air belayed the agony I felt over the loss of the two other members of the trio I had been born into. My fingers gripped my knees, nails digging relentlessly into giving flesh. The sweet sorrow of unfortunate death twined about my hunched form as I let the haze that accompanied using the first and true gift the gods blessed me with, the power that had left when Hyacinthe and Rose were killed had joined my own, so I sang with the seducing, soul wrenching energy of three sirens instead of one.
I do not know how long I sang, but I felt the slow motion of the ship slow beneath my body, almost as if a celestial hand had stilled the floating mass of wood. The door to my prison slammed open and the pirate captain stood in the doorway, eyes transfixed upon my slowly rocking figure. Salty tears continued to fall down my face in gentle rivulets, falling into the centers of my now open palms.
From there, the liquid trickled from the steadily gathering pool past the pulsating veins of my wrists and soaked into the fabric of my clothing. Upon seeing him leaning in the exit, the notes died in my throat and I bowed my head, letting blood encrusted tendrils obscure my vision.
"Lass, what was that?" He took several steps into the room and knelt before me.
One of his fingers slipped beneath my chin and tilted my skull upwards, hair parting delicately around my salt stained visage. His eyes widened at the pitiful picture I made and he gently tucked the freed curls behind my ears, a surprisingly tender expression on his features. He wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs and offered me a timid smile.
"Ye'll feel better after a bath, won't ye? Ye poor thing…Dun worry, the people we're gonna meet will help ye."
"Please, I just want to go home." I whispered beseechingly, my sole wish plain upon my pained face.
His hands shifted so my face was cupped in his hands, his thumbs just touching the corners of my mouth. "There's nothin' left at yer home, jus' blood an' memories. Ye' can't survive offa those, ye'll jus' die like they did."
"But that's what I want." I croaked. "To join my sisters…Life is meaningless without them. We had never been apart before they were killed. How can I go one without them?" I drew in a shuddering breath to continue, but stopped when I saw him look away; the soul crushing agony within my eyes too much for him to continue seeing.
"Just let me go, nobody will ever know…I am supposed to stay on the isle until my death. It is not right, I have to go home."
"Who says yer supposed to stay there? Those who put ye there? They 'ad no right ta do that, will ye let them do that to ye?"
"I can't help what they do, I have no choice in the matter."
"Ye always have a choice. Those bastar…"
My hand flew up and covered his mouth, the collection of tears sparkling like airborne diamonds, sending out fractured rainbows before they hit the floor and burst like lost, forgotten dreams. I brought my face closer to his, causing his elbows to bend slightly as fear flushed my face.
"Do not blaspheme against the gods! To call them such is offering yourself to be taken, snatched from this life."
He blinked slowly and his hands slid away from my face as he drew backwards onto his heels. His brow was furrowed as he watched me, seeming shocked at my words.
"The gods? What are ye talking about?"
"What has happened to the world since I was banished? Does nobody believe in those that made us?"
"Lass, only those born to noble families 'ave time to believe in tha' god the priests preach about, us regular folk don't 'ave the time." He rose to his feet and went to the door, resting his hand against the frame. "We'll be dockin' in Port Royal soon. Ye'd best be ready." And for the second time that day, he closed the door and locked me in the cabin.
Well, it was longer than the previous…
Review Responses:
Firefly Phoenix – Ah, well in my mind there are two kinds of 'immortals'. One kind are the gods that rule and the other are the creatures that do not grow old, sick, or die of natural causes, but can die if injured enough. Jasmine and her sisters are the second kind of 'immortal'. Her sisters were run through with swords, their lungs and hearts nearly cut in half by rapiers. It killed them like it would any human because the wound was too severe for it to be healed. For example, if Jasmine's arm was scratched, then the cut would heal far more rapidly than if it had been inflicted upon a human. This is because her body's homeostasis is pretty much perfection and it will revert itself to its ideal state almost immediately. But if what is inflicted upon her body is too severe, she will die like any common mortal. Hope that helps, Kacie!
GambitGirl2008 - I hope you enjoyed it.
Queen of the Insects – I adore Greek mythology, the way stories were used to explain things they did not understand. I thought it would be fun do so something like this…Ah, I hope you enjoyed the others!
Lissa – Firstly, your name is too long and confusing for a mere mortal such as myself to spell out. Excuse me oh mighty loup-garou…And I'm not mocking you, I would never mock you Liss. Oh I know, it'd be so awesome if we still went to the same school, perhaps not next year but the year after? You can apply and then it'd be great. Yes'm, I'll just scurry back to my computer O' Mighty Slave Driver.
Your Lord and Master;
Foamy the Squirrel