Disclaimer: I own my body, my heart, and my mind. Unfortunately, I sold my
soul on e-bay. Got a pretty good price for it too wink. Come one, you
guys know that I only Dèsirèè Moore and Pete (to be introduced) and that
Jack, Tortuga, and the Black Pearl are not mine. Also, there is one line of
dialogue that does not belong to me. It is from the movie Victor Victoria.
See if you can pick it out!
Author's Note:
I'm baaaaaack!!!!!! Yahooo!!!! confetti is thrown in the air, streamers come down, and a few of those party whistles are blown I know it's been forever! But I do have an excuse! audience mutters: yeah, well it better be a good excuse Number 1: I needed to take a little time to figure a few things out about meself. Ya know, which one of my thousand faces really belongs to me. I think I found it. Happy finger dance y'all. Number 2: I got so many reviews asking for longer chapters that I slaved (see that, me slaving for you) over this chapter trying to get it longer. And I hope you little readers are happy with it! Muah! the audience cringes and several people say 'ewewewewew!' Oh and one more thing: every time you are reading one of the pirates thoughts you will see surrounding the text.
The two pirates walked side by, their boots echoing on the cobble stone street. The roads leading down to the waterfront were pretty much deserted, except for a few drunks stumbling back to their assorted ships. The stone houses that were lining the street threw the eerie sounds of the night back at Dèsirèè and Jack.
Neither of them spoke. Both of them were absorbed in their own trains of thoughts.
So this is the famous Liam Innis, Jack thought, glancing over at the woman walking next to him. The great Liam Innis. Rumor has it that the man, eh, woman started pirating at the age of 14. Raised up from elegant beginnings, Innis decided to use his, em, her enormous wealth to get more. A brilliant swordsman and educated about mostly everything, he (damn!) she was said to be a fair match for the most accomplished sailor or scholar. Not a lot was known about hi – her. But I'm sure that most of the rumors about the man, er, woman is just that: rumors. But... He peeked at her again, noticing the gentle curves of her body. ...one can never be quite sure....hmmm....
While Jack was debating this issue in his head, Dèsirèè was following her own thoughts. She wasn't exactly sure that Captain Sparrow was paying attention to the disclaimer. He was looking at her with a certain fascination that worried her. She really hoped that she wouldn't have to rip his intestines out. That would be the third one this year. Dèsirèè sighed. Not that she would mind having a little fun, she decided, looking over his lean, well-muscled body. However, she had learned long ago that business and pleasure did not mix well with pirating. But deception and treachery fit right in. She sighed again. How long had it been? Two, three years? Five? She shook her head distastefully. Dèsirèè Moore, you're such a weakling sometimes. She despised weakness.
The silence seemed almost overpowering by now, filled with unspoken thoughts. It was beginning to bother Jack so he decided to talk with Dèsirèè about this treasure business. Unfortunately, before he had a chance to utter a single slurred syllable, he was surprise to see Dèsirèè vanish before his eyes. He blinked. He blinked again. Nope, she still hadn't reappeared. Jack tried rubbing his eyes several times; just to make sure they hadn't tricked him. Upon, further investigation he found that Dèsirèè had simply sidestepped into a doorway. The room that he was now peering into resembled a much neglected hotel lobby. There was a plump man sitting behind a desk on the right side of the room. The man was obviously extremely upset about something as he was screaming loudly at the ceiling.
"And another thing!" the fat man cried at the thin wood ceiling above him. "I don't approve of 'ow you keep that room of yours. It's filthy!"
"Number One," shouted a voice from upstairs that Jack immediately recognized as Dèsirèè's, "You shouldn't be in my room and number two," she said, her had poking around the corner, "It was filthy when I got here."
The fat man shrieked indignantly, "Oy, that's me wife's cleaning ye just insulted! And it's MY room, you are just renting it, ye git!" He mumbled to himself as Dèsirèè finished walking down the stairs and to the desk. "The things I take the things I take! The missus screamin' at me 'bout how I'm ne'er at home, damn children crying and bawlin' to me at all hours of the night—"
"A sad story to be sure, Pete, but I'd be much obliged if you would tell me how much I owe you." interjected Dèsirèè.
"25 shillings." Pete stated promptly before going back to his rant, "Not like you'd ever pay. The whores are more prompt in their payments than ye for chris' sake. Ye," he pointed a chubby finger at her accusingly, "Are probably the only reason me children are starving!"
"Yes, well," she said, swinging the sack that she had managed to retrieve from her small room off her shoulder and beginning to rummage through it, "I never did like children."
"Yous 'eartless, you is! Absolutely 'eartless! No wonder the world in such state. Everyone so bloody –" Dèsirèè plopped a small pouch onto the desk. Pete grabbed the bag hungrily, empting the coins out onto the desk top so he could count them, "– greedy."
Pete threw the leather pouch back to Dèsirèè and she caught it deftly with one hand. She put it back in her knapsack as Pete continued to whine. "And now that ye've finally paid ye bill, ye can get the hell out of my establishment!"
Dèsirèè looked up from her bag as she threw it over her shoulder. "Oh, don't make it sound like such a threat. Being thrown out of this place is significantly better than being thrown out of a leper colony."
She walked back outside to and slammed the door on the string of curses that followed her. As Dèsirèè readjusted her coat and bag, Jack cocked his head to one side and asked, "How did ye do that?"
She looked up at him, blinking. "What DO you mean?"
Was it possible she didn't notice? "Ye little," he gestured wildly with his hands, forcing Dèsirèè to step back, "disappearing act."
Was he really that dense? "I didn't 'disappear'; I just stepped into a doorway."
Did she really think he was that thick? "I could see that, luv, but how did ye do it without me noticing?"
She thought for a second. When did she learn to do that? Dèsirèè's mind reeled back to a small market place in Marseille, France. A little girl of no more than five, with long brown hair and crystal blue eyes ran through the crowd, dodging people and giggling as she ran. Suddenly, two callused hands grabbed the little girl and lifted her off the ground. The small babe was soon brought nose to nose with her very angry mother. "Dèsirèè Rebecca Moore where 'ave you been!!" The woman shook the child gently, "You've scared me and your father half to death! Don't ye ever disappear like that again!"
"Come, come, Isabelle, don't be too hard on the girl."
A pair of long elegant hands plucked her from her mother's grasp. The man who was now holding the young child was tall and thin, with short brown hair and green eyes. The little girl clung to the man and buried her head into the soft fabric of his clothing. Her mother continued to fume as her father gently stroked the child's hair.
"You're the one who teaches her these bad 'abits, Erik!"
"Calm yourself Isabelle. It's not my fault she's a bright child." Erik held the child away from his body and talked to her with a melodious voice. "Un femme petite intelligente, mais oui! Très intelligente..."
The icy blue eyes of Isabelle softened as the little child giggled and reached out, flailing her tiny arms. "Ay, you're right. Maybe I should start teaching her 'ow to fence..." she said speculatively, looking at the child with new interest.
"Isabelle!" exclaimed Erik. "She's not even seven yet!"
Isabelle shrugged her shoulders with a roughish smile on her face. "It's not me fault the child's a quick learner." The man smiled and pulled the woman close to him, a content child still lounging in his arms.
"Well?" asked Jack impatiently.
Dèsirèè was snapped back to the present at the sound of his voice, a few threads of the memory still lingering about her. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say she didn't know and continued to walk on. Jack shook his head and followed. He could tell that she was going to be hard to work with.
They could hear the gentle lapping of the waves as they got nearer to the docks.
"You know, I never did ask you, what's the name of you ship?" she said, just as the reached the docks.
Both of them stopped.
"Is that it?" she asked.
Jack nodded proudly. "Ay."
...
"Ye sure?"
"Ay." Jack glanced over a Dèsirèè. Upon first meeting her, Jack had gotten the impression the very few things surprised or impressed the woman. He was happy to see that the Black pear was one of those few things. As they made their way onto the deck, he watched her run her long, supple fingers gently along the railings of the ship. When they got all the way on deck she stood in the middle of the ship and looked up into the rigging, her hands on her hips, the bright moonlight reflecting off her pale face.
"What do you think of her?" Jack inquired.
Dèsirèè looked up a little longer before saying, "Mm, not bad."
Jack sputtered disbelievingly. "No—not, not bad??"
Dèsirèè turned and grinned. "Not bad."
Jack gestured below deck. "The grand tour is just getting' started."
Dèsirèè followed him below and walked down a long hallway. As they were walking, the sounds of shouting and drunken laughter could be clearly heard. Dèsirèè raised an eyebrow as several loud crashes echoed throughout the hallway. "Is your whole crew here?" she questioned.
"Ay." replied Jack turning right down another hallway, "I was expecting to sail in the mornin' after taking on a few supplies and the like, so I managed to round up me crew. I was just going out for the supplies," he stopped in a doorway, "When I got a little..." he looked her up and down meaningfully, "side tracked."
Dèsirèè made an apologetic gesture as Jack opened the door to the captain's cabin. "Please make yeself at home."
Was it long enough for you? Hmmmm? Was it?? I hope you all appreciate this chappie. I expected to get a lot of presents. The audience raises an eyebrow at her Well, at least some reviews. Always I would just like to say that this chapter is dedicated to one of my best friends, Morgan, who is moving to West Virginia tomorrow. I LUV YOU MORGS!!
Adios Amigos,
Thousand Faces
Author's Note:
I'm baaaaaack!!!!!! Yahooo!!!! confetti is thrown in the air, streamers come down, and a few of those party whistles are blown I know it's been forever! But I do have an excuse! audience mutters: yeah, well it better be a good excuse Number 1: I needed to take a little time to figure a few things out about meself. Ya know, which one of my thousand faces really belongs to me. I think I found it. Happy finger dance y'all. Number 2: I got so many reviews asking for longer chapters that I slaved (see that, me slaving for you) over this chapter trying to get it longer. And I hope you little readers are happy with it! Muah! the audience cringes and several people say 'ewewewewew!' Oh and one more thing: every time you are reading one of the pirates thoughts you will see surrounding the text.
The two pirates walked side by, their boots echoing on the cobble stone street. The roads leading down to the waterfront were pretty much deserted, except for a few drunks stumbling back to their assorted ships. The stone houses that were lining the street threw the eerie sounds of the night back at Dèsirèè and Jack.
Neither of them spoke. Both of them were absorbed in their own trains of thoughts.
So this is the famous Liam Innis, Jack thought, glancing over at the woman walking next to him. The great Liam Innis. Rumor has it that the man, eh, woman started pirating at the age of 14. Raised up from elegant beginnings, Innis decided to use his, em, her enormous wealth to get more. A brilliant swordsman and educated about mostly everything, he (damn!) she was said to be a fair match for the most accomplished sailor or scholar. Not a lot was known about hi – her. But I'm sure that most of the rumors about the man, er, woman is just that: rumors. But... He peeked at her again, noticing the gentle curves of her body. ...one can never be quite sure....hmmm....
While Jack was debating this issue in his head, Dèsirèè was following her own thoughts. She wasn't exactly sure that Captain Sparrow was paying attention to the disclaimer. He was looking at her with a certain fascination that worried her. She really hoped that she wouldn't have to rip his intestines out. That would be the third one this year. Dèsirèè sighed. Not that she would mind having a little fun, she decided, looking over his lean, well-muscled body. However, she had learned long ago that business and pleasure did not mix well with pirating. But deception and treachery fit right in. She sighed again. How long had it been? Two, three years? Five? She shook her head distastefully. Dèsirèè Moore, you're such a weakling sometimes. She despised weakness.
The silence seemed almost overpowering by now, filled with unspoken thoughts. It was beginning to bother Jack so he decided to talk with Dèsirèè about this treasure business. Unfortunately, before he had a chance to utter a single slurred syllable, he was surprise to see Dèsirèè vanish before his eyes. He blinked. He blinked again. Nope, she still hadn't reappeared. Jack tried rubbing his eyes several times; just to make sure they hadn't tricked him. Upon, further investigation he found that Dèsirèè had simply sidestepped into a doorway. The room that he was now peering into resembled a much neglected hotel lobby. There was a plump man sitting behind a desk on the right side of the room. The man was obviously extremely upset about something as he was screaming loudly at the ceiling.
"And another thing!" the fat man cried at the thin wood ceiling above him. "I don't approve of 'ow you keep that room of yours. It's filthy!"
"Number One," shouted a voice from upstairs that Jack immediately recognized as Dèsirèè's, "You shouldn't be in my room and number two," she said, her had poking around the corner, "It was filthy when I got here."
The fat man shrieked indignantly, "Oy, that's me wife's cleaning ye just insulted! And it's MY room, you are just renting it, ye git!" He mumbled to himself as Dèsirèè finished walking down the stairs and to the desk. "The things I take the things I take! The missus screamin' at me 'bout how I'm ne'er at home, damn children crying and bawlin' to me at all hours of the night—"
"A sad story to be sure, Pete, but I'd be much obliged if you would tell me how much I owe you." interjected Dèsirèè.
"25 shillings." Pete stated promptly before going back to his rant, "Not like you'd ever pay. The whores are more prompt in their payments than ye for chris' sake. Ye," he pointed a chubby finger at her accusingly, "Are probably the only reason me children are starving!"
"Yes, well," she said, swinging the sack that she had managed to retrieve from her small room off her shoulder and beginning to rummage through it, "I never did like children."
"Yous 'eartless, you is! Absolutely 'eartless! No wonder the world in such state. Everyone so bloody –" Dèsirèè plopped a small pouch onto the desk. Pete grabbed the bag hungrily, empting the coins out onto the desk top so he could count them, "– greedy."
Pete threw the leather pouch back to Dèsirèè and she caught it deftly with one hand. She put it back in her knapsack as Pete continued to whine. "And now that ye've finally paid ye bill, ye can get the hell out of my establishment!"
Dèsirèè looked up from her bag as she threw it over her shoulder. "Oh, don't make it sound like such a threat. Being thrown out of this place is significantly better than being thrown out of a leper colony."
She walked back outside to and slammed the door on the string of curses that followed her. As Dèsirèè readjusted her coat and bag, Jack cocked his head to one side and asked, "How did ye do that?"
She looked up at him, blinking. "What DO you mean?"
Was it possible she didn't notice? "Ye little," he gestured wildly with his hands, forcing Dèsirèè to step back, "disappearing act."
Was he really that dense? "I didn't 'disappear'; I just stepped into a doorway."
Did she really think he was that thick? "I could see that, luv, but how did ye do it without me noticing?"
She thought for a second. When did she learn to do that? Dèsirèè's mind reeled back to a small market place in Marseille, France. A little girl of no more than five, with long brown hair and crystal blue eyes ran through the crowd, dodging people and giggling as she ran. Suddenly, two callused hands grabbed the little girl and lifted her off the ground. The small babe was soon brought nose to nose with her very angry mother. "Dèsirèè Rebecca Moore where 'ave you been!!" The woman shook the child gently, "You've scared me and your father half to death! Don't ye ever disappear like that again!"
"Come, come, Isabelle, don't be too hard on the girl."
A pair of long elegant hands plucked her from her mother's grasp. The man who was now holding the young child was tall and thin, with short brown hair and green eyes. The little girl clung to the man and buried her head into the soft fabric of his clothing. Her mother continued to fume as her father gently stroked the child's hair.
"You're the one who teaches her these bad 'abits, Erik!"
"Calm yourself Isabelle. It's not my fault she's a bright child." Erik held the child away from his body and talked to her with a melodious voice. "Un femme petite intelligente, mais oui! Très intelligente..."
The icy blue eyes of Isabelle softened as the little child giggled and reached out, flailing her tiny arms. "Ay, you're right. Maybe I should start teaching her 'ow to fence..." she said speculatively, looking at the child with new interest.
"Isabelle!" exclaimed Erik. "She's not even seven yet!"
Isabelle shrugged her shoulders with a roughish smile on her face. "It's not me fault the child's a quick learner." The man smiled and pulled the woman close to him, a content child still lounging in his arms.
"Well?" asked Jack impatiently.
Dèsirèè was snapped back to the present at the sound of his voice, a few threads of the memory still lingering about her. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say she didn't know and continued to walk on. Jack shook his head and followed. He could tell that she was going to be hard to work with.
They could hear the gentle lapping of the waves as they got nearer to the docks.
"You know, I never did ask you, what's the name of you ship?" she said, just as the reached the docks.
Both of them stopped.
"Is that it?" she asked.
Jack nodded proudly. "Ay."
...
"Ye sure?"
"Ay." Jack glanced over a Dèsirèè. Upon first meeting her, Jack had gotten the impression the very few things surprised or impressed the woman. He was happy to see that the Black pear was one of those few things. As they made their way onto the deck, he watched her run her long, supple fingers gently along the railings of the ship. When they got all the way on deck she stood in the middle of the ship and looked up into the rigging, her hands on her hips, the bright moonlight reflecting off her pale face.
"What do you think of her?" Jack inquired.
Dèsirèè looked up a little longer before saying, "Mm, not bad."
Jack sputtered disbelievingly. "No—not, not bad??"
Dèsirèè turned and grinned. "Not bad."
Jack gestured below deck. "The grand tour is just getting' started."
Dèsirèè followed him below and walked down a long hallway. As they were walking, the sounds of shouting and drunken laughter could be clearly heard. Dèsirèè raised an eyebrow as several loud crashes echoed throughout the hallway. "Is your whole crew here?" she questioned.
"Ay." replied Jack turning right down another hallway, "I was expecting to sail in the mornin' after taking on a few supplies and the like, so I managed to round up me crew. I was just going out for the supplies," he stopped in a doorway, "When I got a little..." he looked her up and down meaningfully, "side tracked."
Dèsirèè made an apologetic gesture as Jack opened the door to the captain's cabin. "Please make yeself at home."
Was it long enough for you? Hmmmm? Was it?? I hope you all appreciate this chappie. I expected to get a lot of presents. The audience raises an eyebrow at her Well, at least some reviews. Always I would just like to say that this chapter is dedicated to one of my best friends, Morgan, who is moving to West Virginia tomorrow. I LUV YOU MORGS!!
Adios Amigos,
Thousand Faces