Warning: this first scene is, I think, just a little dark even for me, although it was necessary.

"You've made a decision, then?" Riley. His voice is void of emotion.

They're on the Queen. The deck is crowded with some other members of Emily's crew, including those who had been caught more directly in the crossfire during Andrews' would be escape. There is a rope hanging down from the lowest beam of the main mast, a noose swinging in the breeze. It's taken a lot of thought for her to come to this decision. It's not her only option, maybe, but it is her best one. She'd had to personally inform Captain Teague of her plan – Shipwreck wasn't generally supposed to be made the setting for scenes like this, but Teague had agreed after she'd explained her reasoning.

Emily doesn't turn to look at Riley. She doesn't want to see whatever emotion might be written across his face. "I don't have too many options."

A pause. "Peter's really not – not like them. Captain Andrews has just been relentless…and he's been raised a gentleman, he hasn't known harder times. Not like…" He trails off. He'd been about to say 'not like us', she knows. With what she's about to do, though, she has a feeling she's finally destroying whatever little fantasy they'd had with each other. "He doesn't deserve this."

Perhaps this is alright, though. Perhaps it's high time that fantasy of theirs does end. She steels herself. "He killed one of my men. The near escape I could've over looked. But the rest of my men expect Andrews to be repaid in kind."

"Please don't do that, Captain."

The reply is unexpected enough that she finally allows herself to turn and look at him. There's a hardness to his eyes that she's never seen before. "Do what?" She asks.

"I can believe your men want revenge. I can even, I think, understand them wanting it in this case. But please don't lie to me. This isn't about that. It's about how it'll make you look if you let them both go now."

"You were right. It's all about survival here." She reminds him. "Riley, how far do you think I'll get if I allow the Admiral to think there's only so far I'll go?"

"I suppose I just hoped…" He sounds almost pleading. "You're so very clever, Miss Emily. It never ceases to amaze me. Surely you can manage some other way?"

"Honestly? You have no idea how much of my time is often taken up with thinking of ways to do just that." She confesses.

"Then do it again now. Miss Emily, I'm asking you, please."

She almost wants to give in, just because it's Riley asking. But no. If she's going to send Andrews off with any kind of story to tell, it's going to be the story of the woman who can be no less ruthless than the pirates she counts herself among. She can't afford to be anything less. She stands tall, more Peg than Emily now. "No. I've made my decision."

She orders Andrews and Peter brought up on deck as Alex and Jo appear next to her. Thankfully, her papa had eagerly agreed to be the one to keep Joshy occupied for a time, so she doesn't have to worry about her brother.

Peter doesn't say a word, though there is no small amount of fear behind his eyes as he stands on the barrel set beneath the noose. Emily watches, careful to wear a mask of cold indifference, as the noose is looped around his neck. Andrews is silent as well. There is a flicker of sadness behind his eyes as he looks up at his loyal midshipman. Emily thinks, on some level, that it is nice to know that even the cold, defiant Navy man might very well be human beneath the uniform.

Peg just sneers at him, for a moment feeling a cruel sort of amusement at the display. "Is that regret I see? This is, in its entirety, your fault, Mr. Andrews. You thought you could play games with me, and you've lost." His jaw clenches, and he sends her a glare so sharp and cold she can almost feel a dagger of ice being driven through her skull; he says nothing, however. "Nothing to say before I send Peter here off to the Locker? Very well. A word of advice, Mr. Montgomery – if you should have the misfortune of meeting up with my mother, you might well do best to say 'no'." And she does hope he'll take that advice, because as things stand now, being pulled into serving on the Flying Dutchman isn't a fate she'd wish on anyone.

Peter meets her eyes, just for a moment, and the fear behind them should do something to her. She should feel guilty or pleased or – anything. But she feels nothing, is entirely numb. Turning to the crewmen given the grim task of being executioner, she nods once.

The barrel is kicked away, and all goes silent as the rope creeks and swings and the figure at the end of it struggles in the very way she'd been hoping he wouldn't. Most everyone on deck watches with a morbid satisfaction; Jo turns away with a shake of her head after a brief moment, looking perhaps a bit green about the gills. She retreats with a practiced calm, however.

All too aware of Riley, still standing resolutely at her side, Emily gives out a small measure of mercy. Taking out her own pistol, she aims and shoots, looking away herself as Peter falls limp, his suffering cut short, if a little violently. Having previously given instructions for cleaning up now that the deed is done, she turns and makes sure to avoid looking at either Riley or Alex as she follows Jo's path off the ship.

She's thankful when she doesn't even see Alex or Riley over the course of the day; she knows they'll both be judging her for what she'd just done. She wishes they would understand. As loyal as her crew are, keeping them happy is still important. Demanding blood for blood isn't an uncommon occurrence on a pirate ship, this is simply the way of things.

Thankfully, Jo and Emily's papa seem to understand perfectly, though they may not like it. This is fine, anyway, since Emily didn't actually get any real pleasure out of the whole thing, and she supposes this is a good sign – it would be far more worrying if she did.

"I've been looking through Jo's books the past few nights, just out of curiosity." Emily lays the book out on the table, Ana and Jo coming up on either side of her as she flips the pages. "And I found something that I thought could maybe be useful."

"Just one thing?" Jo raises a brow.

"Well, just the one for now." Emily concedes as she comes to the right page. "Ah. Here it is."

The top of the page reads simply 'Devotion'. Ana shoos her out of the way to hover over the table, skimming the pages contents. "There are spells similar to this in just about every book you'll find. This one seems simple enough. Red rose petals, might be hard to find around these parts, but we could manage." She turns back to Emily, one hand coming up to rest on her hip. "Why would you be needing a spell like this, though?'

"The clock's ticking. Mother's one day is in little more than a week now. I'm not worried about finding the Chest, as long as mother doesn't manage to snatch Uncle's compass from me, finding her heart should be no trouble. The problem is, we also need the key."

"I told you you'd come up with something." Jo says, no doubt recognizing Emily's tone. "What's the plan, then?"

"Well, that's what I'm trying to work out. I can't go and get the key myself, mother will be suspicious no matter what I come up with to get myself on the Dutchman. Alex has already said he'd be willing to try, but there is no trying with my mother, we all know what failure means."

"This spell might be even more useful than you think." Ana's been studying the book some more. "Emily, do you understand what this is saying?"

Emily blushes lightly. "Erm, not entirely. That's why I thought to ask you."

"If done right, this spell would form a connection between you and the person you cast it on. A bond that would allow them, woman or man, the use of your power with as much control as you yourself have over it."

Emily's eyes widen. "Really? That's – even better than I was expecting, actually."

"Of course, it's not quite that simple." Ana's tone turns warning as she reads further. "Dividing the power would leave you weaker, for one thing. And in order for it to work properly, this person must feel some sort of bond with you already… Oh. Oh, dear."

"What?"

"This spell wasn't designed to be exactly pleasant, it seems. Casting it requires you to earn a kiss from your victim. They are put into a trance like state, unable to feel pain and only vaguely aware of their own actions. This is a fair bit closer to the darker magic's than I'm used to dealing with, I'm afraid."

Emily's shoulders slump. Well, alright, so it doesn't sound the most pleasant. But if whoever she casts it on will be unable to feel pain, won't even really know what they're doing… "Would you help me anyway?" She asks Ana, but glances at Jo as well. "If I could find someone I thought it would work on, would you help me do it anyway? I mean, you've seen what I can do with my power. If I can allow someone else the use of if just long enough to snatch the key for me… I mean, it should be a piece of cake."

Ana sighs. "I suppose. Mind, whatever happens, it'd be on your head, not mine."

Emily shrugs, unbothered. Or, at least, trying to be. "I can live with that." It comes out sounding even more careless than she'd meant it to. Ana and Jo exchange a look. "I don't see as I have much choice." Emily defends.

"Alex would still be your best option." Jo points out, albeit with reluctance.

Will he be? Emily's not so sure, because there is Riley…

Riley who wants to hate her now, she can tell, but if the looks she's still getting are anything to go by, he doesn't. And perhaps it's really very awful of her, but she's going to use this to her advantage, because if it's a choice between Alex and anyone – there's just nothing for it. She's always going to choose Alex.

Besides. Riley will be fine. And if he isn't, Ana had taught Emily some healing magic, so he will be. There's no way she can't win this. She refuses to believe there is.

"Riley?"

He freezes at her voice, tensing. They haven't talked since she'd decided to execute Peter yesterday, and although his feelings on the matter are mixed in a way that has him disgusted with himself, he knows he should be angry with her. But it's still her. There's just something about Miss Emily that makes her impossible to hate. He's begun to realize that Captain Andrews may have actually been really, very right about Miss Emily in a lot of ways. He turns to her and forces himself to show no emotion. "Captain." He greets stiffly.

Her brown eyes are soft, a worried frown playing at her lips. "Can we talk?"

"I'm not sure there's much left for us to talk about." But he walks with her anyway.

"I just wanted to apologize for –," she falters a bit, glancing at him, "yesterday. I mean, I need you to believe … I am sorry for your friend. But you have to understand, my crew were asking, demanding…"

They've reached a deserted portion of the corridor. He stops to look at her. The tone of her voice, the look on her face; she won't meet his eyes. She seems shaken in a way he hasn't seen her before, even after the fight she'd had with Sparrow. "I do believe you, Miss Emily." He says.

She seems startled at this, her pretty brown eyes darting up to meet his green ones. "Well – really?"

He studies her a moment. "Yes." He decides. "Really. But that doesn't excuse…"

"I know. Oh, it's alright Riley, you'd be well within your rights to hate my guts. I'm just…" She trails off as though catching herself, arms crossing in a way that makes her look tiny and almost vulnerable.

"Just what?" He asks, gently now.

"A little lonely. With Alex and I no longer speaking, it feels like I'm missing something, and now there's this problem with my mother… but, oh, I'm being silly, just listen to me." She stares down at her arms, playing with her sleeve a bit.

"No." He hesitates, then slowly reaches out a hand to cover hers, stilling it. "It's alright, Miss Emily. I mean, if you needed someone to… What's the problem with your mother?" She'd told him a bit about it, her mother and the Flying Dutchman and all that. He doesn't understand it all, not fully, but he has decided to believe her if for no other reason than because he's not sure how anyone could make it all up.

"It's so much to explain, and it's hardly your problem." She peers back up at him from beneath her lashes. "You see, it's just…"

He listens with rapt attention as she goes on to explain about a Chest, an old key, and a spell that might just help in retrieving it…

"Tell me ye aren't actually planning to do it." Is Alex's greeting when next she sees him. They're in Ana's tavern again, downstairs now as she'd been having dinner – with Riley, incidentally. Alex glances at Riley, but does little else in the way of acknowledging his presence.

Emily leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Hello to you too, Sparrow. You've been talking to Jo, then?"

"She was only too eager to 'and this problem off to someone else, and I don't blame 'er. Ye can't possibly think this will work."

"Well, I don't see anyone else coming up with a better suggestion."

"I won't do it." Alex lunges forward, bracing himself on the table so he's leaning over her, earning him a few worried glances from the barmaids around. "I won't be ye're little puppet and I can't believe ye'd even think to ask!"

Emily stares up at him, as impassive as she has been since he started in on her. "I haven't asked anyone, Alex." She glances at Riley. "Wasn't actually planning to." It's only sort of a lie. It's perhaps more accurate to say that she'd been sure with the right tactics she wouldn't actually need to ask anyone, but she's not bothering with such nuances.

Alex studies her a moment, then backs off with a huff. "Playin games again? Seems to be what we do best. Alright, I'll play along. What were ye plannin, then?"

"I wasn't sure, to be honest." She reaches for her drink. "And then I caught up with my brave midshipman here," she offers Riley a small smile, "and we worked it all out."

"Did ye, now?" Alex eyes the mug in her hands and then turns to Riley, as if only just really taking note of his presence. "What did she say, then? Did she bat her eyes all sweet n' pretty like, apologize for tying a noose 'round yer friends neck, like she cared?" Riley glances at Emily, uncertain. "She's spent the past week in it's entirety 'alf in the bottle I think, so whatever she told ye, I'd forget it an' run for the 'ills, boy, while ye still can."

"Well, I…" Riley doesn't seem to know what to say.

"Sparrow! Yes, I apologized, and I meant every word, for heaven's sake!" She turns to Riley as she shoves her mug back onto the table. "He's just angry because I decided he could keep his pretty little whores since he seems so much more interested in them than me. He'll blame our little spat on anything as long as it isn't himself, plain and simple."

Riley meets her eyes, searching them. He looks troubled, but his voice is firm when he finally answers Alex, not taking his eyes off Emily. "I've already told her that I'll help. I understand there's some sort of real danger involved, but I…" His green eyes soften a touch. "I trust Miss Emily."

She's making herself sick at this point, because she thinks this is exactly what she'd promised herself she wouldn't do to Riley, but she's come too far to back out now. "Thank you, Riley." She looks up at Alex, haughty.

He only shakes his head before storming back out of the tavern.

She's draped herself in the window seat, the window swung open to let in the cool night air. Staring up at the pretty white crescent that is the moon, she sings softly to herself the tune her mother had taught her once upon a time.

'Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.'

She knows now exactly how this is all going to work out. She's going to get her mother back and with her to help they'll fix this problem that is the Admiral and that'll be that. A pirate's life for Emily. She's going to go right on living it just the way she has been. And so what if Alex doesn't like it? It's her plan. Her decision and she can live with it. She will. And Riley… he'll be fine. She'll release him when it's all over and he'll be just fine. And really, what does Alex know, anyway?

Something strikes her at this thought, a strange sense of déjà vu finally catching up to her. Shaking her head, she brings up the bottle clutched in her hand. It's more than half empty, but she doesn't care, not tonight. She's half expecting Alex to come looking for her like he used to because he knows she doesn't sleep well. She's hoping to be good and passed out if he does, so she brings the bottle to her lips…

"Something tells me you've had enough."

…and nearly chokes to death on the spicy liquid at the soft but scolding voice that should not be coming from anywhere in her cabin. She's so startled she almost doesn't recognize it, staggering to her feet and reaching for her sword, but wait, had she not just been thinking… She turns, a little more calm, and stands swaying a moment as she stares. "Oh." She swears softly. "Please..tell me I'm dreaming."

Because sure enough, it's her grandfather sitting before her, studying her intently and with perhaps a bit of curiosity. "Do your dreams often involve rum and dead men?"

She collapses back onto the window seat. "I knew you'd say that." She rakes a hand through her hair. "There sort of..is no 'usual' with my dreams." She adds in belated answer to his question.

"You know why I'm here, then?" He asks, reaching forward to gently remove the bottle from her loosened grip and set it aside.

"Yes. I know…"

"The compass. She can't let you keep it."

"No. No, I've just got it figured though! I'm going to fix it?"

The curiosity is more than just hinted at behind her grandfather's old eyes now. "Well. Whatever you do, you'd best get to doing it quick. Your mother's coming as we speak."

"Grandfather." She tries to collect her thoughts. "The key. Do you – do you know where she keeps the key?"

"You really do have a plan, then?" He seems surprised, but shakes his head. "Used to be there was a loose board in her cabin, beneath the bed, might've been. But that was before…"

Well, it'd be a place to start anyway, but oh, she hasn't even got the ingredients for the spell she'll use on Riley and… "Now? She's – she's really coming now?"

"Aye." He looks sad now. "My granddaughter. You know, I'd once hoped…" He trails off, and Emily abruptly feels a little ashamed of herself. Reaching for her again, he takes one of her hands in his own.

His touch is damp and cold and Emily snatches her hand back, a sick feeling twisting her insides. There, on her palm… oh, goddess. "Grandfather," but he's gone, vanished as easily as he'd appeared. She shoots to her feet –just in time for her cabin door to creak open.

"Emily?" That's Alex's voice, calling quietly. "You awake, love? I've come to call truce."

"Alex." She goes to dart across the room, nearly tripping over the chair her grandfather had been occupying. "Yes, come in, thank my goddess, I knew you'd turn up!"

He slips into the room, crossing it with tentative steps. "Something wrong?"

"You have no idea. I-I mean, I barely remembered that dream – but maybe I should've known – and now she's coming and I'm not – I mean, I don't know if I'm ready! But we need to leave!"

"Whoa, easy love, easy." He catches her in his arms as she goes to pass him right up on her way out of her cabin. "Slow down. I've not the faintest idea what you're going on about!"

"My grandfather! Alex, he was here!"

"Your – grandfather?" He only stares down at her blankly. "Ye don't 'ave a grandfather, love."

She scowls up at him, trying to pull out of his arms. "My papa's father, Alex, he's been on the Dutchman with my mother and she sent him to – if we stay here we're putting everyone else in danger, don't you see?"

.

She's looking up at him now and oh, how he's beginning to hate that smell, the stench of drink on one who's had too much of it. Alright. How much has she had, then? He looks up and around and spots the bottle on her desk. Well more than half empty, and that's everything explained, easy. "Oh, aye, I think I see just fine."

"No, Alex, wait, I'm – I'm not kidding, we have to set sail now."

He's leading her over to her bed, gentle but firm. "Love, we're not goin anywhere in the middle of the night with a Captain who's three or four sheets to the wind."

"But my grandfather, he…" She's holding up her hand, trying to show him something? But he's already had enough.

"It was just a dream, love. Ye get them all the time. Come on, then." He sits her down on the bed and begins removing the belt around her hips.

"No. It wasn't a dream this time. It – it was real, it was…" She trails off, increasingly incoherent.

"Alright, love, whatever ye say." He keeps going, untying her corset. "Ye can tell me all about it come mornin," adding under his breath, "provided ye remember and aren't too busy bein sick as a dog."

"Alex." She watches him with owlish eyes as he sets her corset aside and removes her boot, then starts in on her brace. "It wasn't a dream. Was it?"

He's had practice enough with it that the brace is off in moments. He sets it aside with the rest of her things, and then comes up to kiss her forehead. "Hush up, love, a little sleep is all ye need now." He lays her back into bed, and she gets in, staring up at him with unfocused eyes.

"But she's going to find me. I mean, I was - was so sure…" She trails off as her eyes, finally, flutter closed.

He watches her a moment longer, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

She wakes late the next morning, before him, which is strange.

She doesn't remember at first. Her head is pounding but the feeling isn't foreign to her and she isn't surprised. She's laying on her bed, the little brown cat that's made its home on the Queen curled up with her and purring softly even as it lifts its head lazily to look at her. Emily runs a hand over the mangy fur between its ears. "Hello there."

She can feel the breeze coming in from the window and thinks, maybe, she remembers settling herself in the window seat the night before. She really just wants to curl up and go back to sleep now, but something stops her, she's not sure what yet. Ah well. It'll come to her…probably. Instead she drags herself into a sitting position, and wait a minute. Her leg brace is sitting neatly atop a pile with the rest of her things – her sword, corset. The brace is what's most worrying. Allowing someone to remove that is, for her, even more intimate a thing than someone tossing aside her corset.

Alex. He'd come to see her the night before. Had he? She searches the room with her eyes and sure enough, there he is, sleeping soundly draped across the window seat. She shakes her head at him. If she'd been passed out, why hadn't he gone off to sleep in his own bed? He'd have been far more comfortable.

She puts on her brace and stumbles a bit in the process of getting to her feet, but steadies herself quick enough. Then she treks across the room, noting the bottle left on her desk, near empty. She resists the urge to down what's left as she winces at the sunlight streaming into the room. Tempting as the idea is, perhaps she's had enough for the moment. Instead, she sits herself down on the seat beside Alex and leans down to whisper in his ear. "Good morning."

He groans softly, and his chocolate brown eyes flutter open to focus on her, bleary with sleep. "Oh. G'mornin, love."

She offers him a small smile. "You know, I'm sure I would've been just fine. You didn't have to stay here."

He snorts softly. "Ye don't remember, then?"

She shrugs. "I remember you showing up here. I think."

He shakes his head. "How drunk must ye 'ave been? Ye were out of yer mind, ye were."

Her brows furrow. "What?"

"Ravin about some dream ye 'ad. And I do mean ravin´. Can't remember the last time I saw ye so up in arms." He's not angry, he's worried.

"Really? Well, I certainly don't remember any of that. I just remember seeing you, and then waking up just now." She reaches out to brush away a strand of his hair that's been blowing in the morning breeze. "I'm sorry if I..worried..you." She trails off, eyes widening as she sees something, on the palm of her hand. Images finally begin flooding her mind.

Curling up in the window seat with a full bottle…thinking of Riley and Alex and the spell…singing that silly song her mother taught her…oh, goddess, her grandfather…it wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream!

"Peg?" Alex catches her hand in his own as she shoots to her feet. "What's wrong?"

She snatches her hand back before he can see the ugly curse marring her palm. "Would you trust me?"

He looks wary as he comes to sit on the edge of the seat. "Why?"

"Because it's too much to explain and you might not believe it and I just need you to do me a favor." She turns to her desk and reaches for a certain drawer with shaking hands and goddess, she wishes her head would stop pounding. At least she's done this enough times that thinking past it is easier – not that that's something to be proud of, exactly. She snatches a coin purse out of the drawer and scowls at herself upon realizing it's considerably lighter than she likes to keep it. And weren't we so proud not too long ago that we were above spending all our coin on drink? Her stomachs starting to churn. She takes a breath and turns to Alex and tosses the purse to him. "I need you to check the hold," she retrieves a ring of keys and tosses them to him as well, "we should have plenty supplies but if we don't round up what you can," she's crossed the room again now, is strapping on her sword and tucking away her pistols, "and then get the crew down here to the docks to load it all and quickly Alex, I'm talking hours and only a few of them. Actually, make that just one. I want to be ready to sail by the time I get back." This is pushing it, but she's the captain, she reserves the right to make ridiculous demands every once in a while.

"Alright, do me best, I will," he crosses the room to hover over her, "but are you plannin to tell me just what exactly it is that's got ye in such a panic?"

"There's no time to lose, not now. I'll explain later, when we're on our way. Alright?" She rests her hands on his neck and meets his eyes. "I'm sorry." Because he's not the only one who has some things to be sorry about, she'll admit it. She leans up and in a bit, offering a kiss.

He glances down at her lips, but doesn't take the offer. "I'll 'ave us ready to sail in an hour or two, Cap'n." He replies crisply, instead offering her a small smile, and it's genuine, although she thinks it hints more at a smirk. He's gone before she can say another word.

…

She meets Jo on her way up to talk to Ana; the older woman is talking to Captain Kristoff as Emily comes up. "Hello, good morning, sorry about this," she greets him, harried and rushed, "but I'm gonna have to steal our Jo here," she turns to the older woman, "we're leaving."

"I figured we would do soon, I suppose you'll want me to start rounding the boys up then?"

"No, no, see when I said leaving I meant sometime in the next hour, I've already got Alex working on all that, you need to come with me to see Ana 'cause goddess knows I still only half understand what she's talking about when it comes to magic."

"An hour? Don't you think that might be…"

"Jo." She snaps, abruptly becoming Captain Turner and not just Emily.

Eyes widening a bit, Jo nods. "Right then, I'll just…" She slips past Emily and over to Captain Kristoff.

Emily looks away, offering them some privacy as he leans down to plant a kiss on Jo's lips. "Go on." He murmurs to her. "You remember where to send your letters?"

"Aye. Is it too much to hope I'll see you soon?"

"Perhaps not too much if we're both hoping enough."

Emily glances back at them with a bit of a scowl. Does anyone actually talk like that? Certainly no one in her world does. She's actually a touch jealous. The pair share a last kiss. Emily clears her throat. Jo pulls away finally and comes up next to Emily.

"Impatient." Jo grumbles.

"I have good reason."

"Planning to tell me what this reason is?"

"Well, I'm a bit fuzzy on the details myself, but I might've just been visited by my very undead grandfather…"

"Good goddess, I think I'll quit asking questions from now on."

…

Ana's waiting for them when they make it to her tavern. She doesn't ask questions, and Emily doesn't even get a word out before Ana is shoving two small leather satchels into her hands. "The one with the rose petals is the one for the devotion spell." She turns to Jo. "It involves a potion and it'll take some time to boil, but the potion itself won't lose potency for some time and you'll only need it to keep for a week at most, so I'd go ahead and get to brewing it while the petals are still fresh. As for the other one, you'll just have to be careful when reciting the chant, those old languages are tricky."

Jo nods, taking back her spell book. "I think I've got it."

"Good." Ana turns to Emily and closes her eyes, holding out something enveloped in her hands. She murmurs something, a short chant not unlike the one she'd just been talking about Emily and Jo having to recite, and then opens her hands to reveal a small crystal charm of sorts, attached to a string. "For luck and protection." She says, tying it around Emily's neck. Then she plants a kiss on her forehead. "Now go, and be careful, both of you!"

Whew. I don't think I'm anywhere near the end of the story as a whole just yet, but this particular arch with Emily and Will and Elizabeth is about to be finished. Just a few chapters more and we'll have our Elizabeth back, I promise!

I made an attempt at drawing Emily! It's a somewhat failed attempt, but I thought I'd put it out there anyway, because I did spend well over an hour sketching her out. I may work on it some and try to come up with a better version. Let me know what you think.

Link - pianogirl94. deviantart art /Peg-Leg-Turner-Concept-495326551, take out the spaces, you know the drill. :)