"Ye actually did it." Alex observes as they're preparing to lower a long boat, sounding incredulous.
What had he been expecting? "Yes, Alex. I actually did it." Silence. He's just staring at her. She throws a few shovels into the boat, watches as a few crewmen begin lowering it, finally turns to Alex with a hand on her hip. "Something to say?"
He doesn't look away. "Nothin' that ain' already been said." A pause. "You alright?"
She's not sure if she'd use the word alright, or any word like it if she's entirely honest, but she forces herself to relax as her father comes up and Jo comes to see the three of them off. "Fine." Emily responds. "'Course I am. Just like he will be."
Alex doesn't question her this time, although he and Emily's papa do exchange a brief look. Funny that they should stop being half at each other's throats now, when Emily's decided she's about done with Alex.
The boat comes to rest in the water. Alex steps out of the way and gestures for her to go ahead. "Captain."
The silence that accompanies them on the short trip to shore is awkward and somehow heavy. Emily's struggling with the feeling that she once again has something she should be apologizing for, but as usual she's not sure what, and it doesn't matter because she doesn't feel sorry for anything and so has no intention of saying it. The island is as tiny and seemingly inconsequential as Emily remembers from her dream. The suns just beginning to rise as they begin traipsing through the sand, half going in circles as Emily tries to force the compass to keep her on track. Alex starts to look annoyed after not too long, though her father just looks vaguely amused.
There's a small crop of trees making up the center of the island, nothing too unusual, except it appears that something strange had happened here some time ago. It looks like someone had started a fire, perhaps on purpose. There's what's left of the trees, and the charred remains of crates and barrels half buried in the sand. And bits of broken bottles. A lot of broken bottles.
That reminds her of a story her Uncle had told her once, about being marooned with a pretty though rather distressing damsel who promptly burned all the rum… Actually, her mother had told her about that one too. And then she thinks of the stunt Alex had pulled when they left Shipwreck and she laughs out loud.
Alex and her papa exchange a look again, and everyone seems to be doing that here lately around her, as if they're worried for her sanity.
"I'm sorry, it's just… the rums gone!" Now they're just staring at her. "Oh! Ask Uncle the next time we see him." She waves them off and looks down at the compass again. "I think – Alex, give me your shovel."
He comes over, but instead of handing the shovel off to her he just shoos her out of the way and begins digging himself. Her father follows suit.
.
Miss Emily explored this ship as a child. The holds full of dark corners. It's almost too easy. He fades into existence, awareness returning to him one sense at a time. Big eyes, glowing an unnatural light green, sweep the area he's now in and find no one.
This should feel stranger than it does. It takes him a moment to realize; he's underwater, holding his breath. He feels the need for air, but not so urgently as he ought to. Apparently, Miss Emily's magic isn't the only thing he's been allowed to borrow.
He swims across the large hold he's in until he comes to a short flight of stairs leading up to what looks to be a corridor, and an empty one if he's not mistaken. He hopes he isn't.
He hopes. It's faint. But it's there, a feeling. Something's not quite right. He isn't supposed to feel.
Riley pushes up the steps and peers around the corner. There's no one around down here. He pushes onward.
.
The sky is growing bright enough that they scarce need the lantern her father had been holding. There's a deep hole in the sand before them now. Much farther and one of them might have to jump down into it. Just before this actually becomes necessary there's a distinct thud, and her papa freezes, glancing at her before peering down into the hole with Alex.
Emily doesn't hesitate. She crouches down and brushes at the sand with her hand, eyes going wide when she sees it – a chest with her mother's name on the top. Captain Elizabeth Turner. Alex and her papa crouch down with her and reach in to pull it out, plopping it down onto the sand next to the hole. Emily shoots to her feet, darts around to sit before the chest, pulls out a lock pick from the hidden compartment in her corset. The large pad lock falls away all too easily.
She opens the chest.
.
Any use of Miss Emily's power on his end could leave her feeling weak. Riley knows it because she does. So he tries to get along without magic. It's not too hard at first. The large crew is, for the most part, above decks. Preparing for a fight, probably. A fight Miss Emily and the Sea's Queen could, quite possibly, lose. He knows it because she does. In fact, she's not at all sure it's even remotely possible they can win in a fight with this massive, barnacle encrusted old ship he's trying to sneak through. That's comforting, he thinks.
Sarcasm. A jolt of fear. Not too intense. But that's not right, not right at all, the spell was meant to wash all that away.
He pushes on because he has no choice. Climb up a ladder, peer into the room above, duck back down quick when something walks – well, half floats – by. Something, not someone. He'd only caught a glimpse, but dear God… Another jolt of fear. Not right, not right.
.
Emily freezes, brows furrowing, staring down at the trunk before her. Hesitating. Why is she hesitating? An all too familiar feeling is beginning to twist her gut. But what is she afraid of? Aside from all the obvious things, but this is more urgent.
"Emily?" Her papa asks.
She starts a bit, glancing at him. "Right. Sorry." She reaches forward and opens the trunk. Letters. There are too many of them to count at first glance. Emily digs through them, a bit curious. There are other things swimming around in the trunk as well – a shiny, gold plaited pistol. A few pieces of jewelry. Gifts from her father that her mother had apparently decided she didn't even want to see again.
And then there's the main attraction… she reaches in and pulls it out, setting it in the sand between her and the larger trunk. Her papa pulls back a little at the sight of it; she and Alex lean in a bit with a morbid curiosity. Sure enough, after a short moment, the thump, thump reaches their ears, muffled but plain as day.
A strange burst of frustration has Emily clenching her fists in her lap. The answer to half her problems is sitting right in front of her, but she still can't get to it. Riley, if you could hurry…
.
Riley's given up now, is using a cloaking spell. She'd not learned this one as well; he can make himself invisible, but can't muffle his own footsteps. He's still trying to be stealthy, and it gets harder with each time he's passed by one of those creatures that had once been human. At least, they had been according to Miss Emily. He can scarce believe it. He's so shaky, he's lucky he hasn't managed to run into something or to knock something over. It doesn't help that the more awareness returns to him, the more disturbed he is by the fact he's been underwater for so long.
The jolts of fear are getting stronger, stronger…turning to full panic. He pauses in a corridor that's empty for now, takes a moment to just breath. Miss Emily wouldn't have sent him here if she hadn't thought he could make it back out. Right? He gets no real reassurance from her end of their connection. His stomach twists itself in a sickening knot. He's beginning to get the feeling that he's been tricked somehow.
She really does need the key, though, is desperate for all this to come together. He tries to gather some courage.
.
The fear turns to panic – well, no, not panic. She's not panicked. She's frustrated. The panic is almost more an echo, like she's feeling it second hand. Wait, what?
"Peg!" Alex. He's all but shouting. How many times has he said her name? She turns to him and blinks, blank. "The lock." He says, slowly. "Try picking the lock."
She shakes her head, tries to clear it. "Picking the lock?" She stares down at the Chest. "Can't be that simple." She turns to her papa. "Can it?" He only shrugs. She takes her simple picks back out and leans down to inspect the challenge before her.
There it is again. An echo of panic, sheer terror. She closes her eyes on some odd instinct, and for a strange though very brief moment, she's not on the island anymore. She's on a ship. An all too familiar ship, with an assortment of menacing and thoroughly inhuman creatures darting past and all at once she knows what's happening. Riley. But he's supposed to – or, rather, he's not supposed to… "Blast!" Had she said that out loud? She straightens up and glances at both Alex and her papa, who are now openly staring at her as though she's quite mad.
.
He can't stay hidden behind a barrel forever. He supposes he could just will himself back to Miss Emily, but then what? He knows now. The strange mark on her hand. Bowing out now could mean basically damning the Queen to the depths, an entire ship full of men. Thieves and scallywags, true, but does that mean they deserve death? Riley doesn't think that's for any one man to decide, and he's just a boy.
He pushes on. Slip down the corridor, focus, focus, don't let the cloak go. Let the cloak go and he's definitely dead. Not much farther and he'll be above decks.
.
Emily curses again as the simple metal pick she's been using snaps right in half. Sitting straight again, she tosses what's left of it aside as the other broken end falls out of the lock. "I knew it couldn't be that simple. It's no use. We have to have that key." The morning sun above them is being slowly blocked by thick grey storm clouds. Emily glances skyward, nervous now, as a distant rumble of thunder rolls across the sky.
"What now, then?" Alex asks.
"Back to the ship?" Her father suggests. "Preferably before the storm makes it here."
Emily nods. "With any luck, Riley will be there to greet us."
She can still feel the fear he's fighting. A thought strikes her, and she tries to gather her own courage. He'll be fine. He will be fine. Breathe, Riley, and just keep going. You'll be fine.
.
They've surfaced. The water filling the ship had drained away all at once, and Riley had nearly been found out as he fell to the deck rather ungracefully.
Breathe, Riley. That's Miss Emily's voice. He's fully awake again, having pushed back any trace of the spell that had clouded his thoughts. He wishes he hadn't. He can't think. His heart feels as though it's trying to pound its way out of his chest. Miss Emily had told him this would be dangerous, but she hadn't explained what he'd actually be facing. These monstrous creatures… Just keep going. Miss Emily again. He feels – confidence. Is that an emotion? He feels it, from her he thinks. Breathe, Riley, stop shaking. Be my brave sailor. You'll be fine. Does she really believe that? He can't tell. She's certainly trying to make him think she does. He climbs a final set of stairs and makes it above decks.
This is where the real fun begins. The deck is swarming with the fish-men sailors he's been trying to avoid. None of them are even looking in his direction, but keeping the cloak up is getting harder and harder as his concentration is constantly thrown off. He stumbles forward, runs into a barrel but manages not to fall, turns around only to come face to face with a very large and brutish sailor with a face like a puffer fish. My brave midshipman. Miss Emily's voice continues to echo in his mind, and it helps. He keeps his wits about him, stepping out of the sailor's way just in time.
Keep going, keep going, keep going. There's another set of stairs, the deck around him almost tiered. He's just got one foot set on the steps when the activity around him dies down some, as well as the noise that accompanies it. Above it all, Riley hears something – something that for some reason makes his blood run cold all on its own. Eyes wide, he looks up, up, his eyes sweeping slowly up the figure now stood at the top of the stairs. Her outfit looks like it may be Asian in origin, a sort of dress with elegant embroidery, but its beauty is as tainted as that of the creature wearing it now; it's crusted with barnacles and an assortment of small, strange sea creatures. One webbed hand, its nails blackened and sharp like claws, rests on the rail next to her, and his eyes travel along that arm, take in the spiked sort of fin protruding from the tattered sleeve of the dress. Her dull green skin seems to glimmer slimily in the brightening daylight; it takes him a moment to realize they're scales. And then his eyes travel up the rest of the way, past disturbingly human eyes, and his heart skips a terrified beat. Serpents. Several of them, atop her head, growing from it like hair. They writhe and hiss, restless. The hissing. That's what stopped him just now.
He can't move. He knows he needs to but he can't. The way the men around him grow extra wary, he figures this must be the Dutchman's captain. Miss Emily's mother. Riley. Miss Emily prompts. Riley, be brave for me.
The gorgon before him is about to descend the steps and she'll run right into him, he has to move, but he can't, he just can't. Riley! Miss Emily near shouts in his mind, and just as he knows it's all over…it isn't. A man stops the Captain. He's tall, wearing a long coat. He doesn't look quite as terrifying as the rest of this ships damned crew, although he does have, on his face…but there's something familiar about him, just vaguely. How strange.
Strange? Strange doesn't even begin to cover what all of this is.
He can't hear what's said, but the Captain turns quickly and walks off. Riley is shaking and still quite terrified, but he finally makes his muscles move, climbing up the steps. He narrowly avoids running in to another of the strange fish-people, nearly falls as he's tripped up over a coil of rope, darts off to the side by some more barrels and looks around, brows furrowed. The Captain. Where has she gone?
.
"Emily." It's Alex who breathes her name, sounding half terrified himself now. They're halfway back to the ship, rowing at a steady pace. Or, they were at least. Alex has stopped dead now, is staring at something just over Emily's shoulder. She turns to look where he is and freezes as well.
Oh. Oh, goddess. Times up.
She takes the Chest, which has been resting in her lap, and sets it down into the boat. She knows what to do. She doesn't want to face her mother. But Emily has the heart. It won't be like her vision. She'd sent Riley for the key and got to the heart first. And just having it could serve its own purpose, as leverage, right?
"You keep going." She meets Alex's eyes, then glances back at her father. "Both of you, don't you dare come after me. You keep going. Understood?" Silence, they're exchanging a look again. "Oi!" She all but shouts, desperate. "If we have the heart, if it's on the Queen, they may not fire on you. Get back to the ship and lock the Chest up tight. And if you think you have a chance… keep to the Code. That's an order! Understood?" Her father nods slowly. Alex still hesitates. "Alex." She leans in, plants a kiss on his lips. "Please."
He nods, finally. "Aye, Cap'n."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
She sends one last look back at her father, a silent apology, and then she jumps.
.
He's caught. It's a combination of things that lead up to it. First he thinks he glimpses an all too familiar face; he hopes it isn't Peter, but doesn't get a chance to find out, because he's tripped up again. He curses himself for being so damnably clumsy, until he realizes what he'd run into isn't a what but a who. And then it's all downhill from there because for just a moment he forgets that he's cloaked, and in that sudden panic he lets his guard down so the thin wall of magic surrounding him falls away anyway.
He tells himself he really will be brave, but most rational thought flees his mind as he realizes who he's run into. It's a girl. Or, at least, he thinks it's a girl. She was a girl, anyway, perhaps, who knows how long ago. She seems to be among the worst off he's seen as far as this strange curse goes, suggesting she's been on the ship for some time. Anyway, it's her appearance that gets him. She looks vaguely like the Captain, minus the serpents and the fact her skin is scaled only in patches.
Her eyes meet his, and harden. "You!" Her voice is near a hiss.
It takes him a moment to make sense of the reaction. His eyes. Miss Emily had been thinking about how strange his eyes looked. "I-I…" He stutters, but can't get anything more out.
She grabs his arm with a shocking strength for all that she's such a tiny thing. "I smell your magic!" She's not the only one. There are several others beginning to circle around him and the girl now.
He swallows. "Wait! I…" Nothing more comes out. He doesn't know what to say at this point. He tries to focus, to will himself away just the same way he'd willed himself onto the ship, but he just can't manage it. Blast it all! "Emily sent me. Emily Turner!" Sent him just to find the key, and he can't tell them this, but…
The creatures freeze. The girls grip on his arm loosens a fraction as her eyes soften in surprise. The name 'Turner' sweeps across the deck in hushed murmurs, and Riley's beginning to understand that he really never had any idea what he was dealing with here.
The girl turns to the nearest crewmen. "Bootstrap." She says simply, and the crewmen walks off without hesitation, obeying some implied order.
The clouds above are thickening, beginning to obscure the sun which has only just risen. Lizzie fades into existence a few feet out into the water still and hesitates a moment; ten years at sea leaves it hard to believe she's allowed to feel the sand beneath her boots again now. She closes her eyes as she pushes onward, hitting solid ground. She wades slowly through the water until, finally, she's standing on the sandy shore, just out of the waters reach. She stands a brief moment, taking in the strange sensation. Takes an unneeded breath, in and out, slow and steady. Then she gets moving again, stalking across the beach, further inland, just beneath that particular tree…
Webbed hands clench and begin to tremble. Her snakes hiss in anger, bearing long fangs. Lizzie whirls around, eyes fixing on the ship the Dutchman's just come up alongside of. Where is she? She can't have got that far. Lizzie storms back out towards the water and scans the fairly vast expanse of blue between the island and the ships. Her eyes land on a boat not too far out; two figures inside are rowing with vigor, keeping up an impressive speed. Oh, how sweet. They think they have a chance.
Drawing her sword, she moves forward as if to push into the water again, intending to take them down herself.
"Mother." Her voice is strong and steady.
Lizzie turns, slow this time, grip on her sword tightening as she brings it up. Emily's hand shoots to her own sword, perhaps on pure instinct; she doesn't draw it. She's soaked, has obviously just gone for a swim herself, but she doesn't appear winded, which is odd. Mother and daughter come to face each other, just staring, each waiting to see what the other will do.
Emily's hand brushes over top of the blade at her hip, and she looks thoughtful, calculating. "I don't want a fight."
"You thought there was any other way this could end?" Lizzie's surprised.
"I think," Emily pauses, relaxes a fraction, draws her hand away from her sword to hold both of them up in surrender, "I think I now have something you can't afford to lose."
"I know." Lizzie spits back, what little patience she has already wearing thin. "You beat me to it, quite a feat considering the state your grandfather found you in."
Emily doesn't bat an eyelash at the intended jab. "It pays to have a goddess on your side, I'd think you'd remember that." She glances in the direction of her ship, a hint of worry behind her eyes.
"Oh, I do. In fact, you have Calypso herself to thank for the fact that you're standing here now, don't you?" Emily's brows furrow in obvious confusion. Lizzie smirks. "Oh, so you didn't know?"
"Know what?" Her daughter asks, growing unnerved.
"Your precious goddess came to me a few weeks past, bargaining for time. Funny, the thing that sealed the deal was the life of a man who should no longer be alive. That's the second dead man walking I now know of. Runs the risk of upsetting a most delicate balance, you know."
Emily's eyes widen briefly as she processes. "What?" She mutters. "But she – she can't have. She's the one who sent me to…"
"To get him back? She's a goddess, dear. Fickle beings, the gods. What did you expect?"
Emily's eyes harden. She throws her shoulders back, haughty. "Well, then, I believe that's two things I have that you'll be wanting back. Papa and the heart, they'll both be safe and sound on my ship by now."
"Safe and sound?" Lizzie interjects, snorting. Is her daughter delusional?
A smirk plays at Emily's lips, one hand coming up to rest on her hip. "Aye, and they'll remain so, because the moment my men see that you're ship is preparing to fire is the moment the cannon that's aimed at your heart by now goes bang."
Lizzie scrutinizes her, stalking forward a bit and beginning to trace a slow circle around the younger woman. A moment passes, she comes to a halt standing just before her daughter now, and she can't tell for certain, but… "You're bluffing."
Emily's expression gives nothing away. It's almost impressive. "Do you want to take that chance?" She mimics Lizzie's earlier move, tracing a slow circle around her mother, only more haughty than predatory. One of Lizzie's snakes darts out to snap at her daughter's nose, causing Emily to pull back with a grimace. "Erm, unless you've got some manner of morbid curiosity going and you want to join ole Davy Jones wherever he ended up. Can't say I'd want to find out, myself." Lizzie hesitates. Her daughter smirks again. "Ah, and now you're listening."
Lizzie almost shudders. When – how? – did Emily start to sound less like her father and more like Jack Sparrow? This whole conversation is taking a turn for the utterly strange. Lizzie's growing curious to spite herself. "What are you suggesting, then?"
"Now, there's the question." Emily holds up a finger. "I'm suggesting something potentially far more satisfying for you than simply tossing my papa back in the locker. Because, I mean, you want him to suffer, but surely it'd be that much more satisfying if you can see it?"
"You went through the trouble of bringing him back only to suggest to me a way of making things worse for him?" Now Lizzie's just confused.
"I went through the trouble of bringing him back – well, I don't know why I went through the trouble of bringing him back, do I?" Emily scowls in a flippant way. "All we bloody well do is fight anyway, and he and Alex, don't get me started. It's been a disaster, if I'm honest, haven't had a moments peace in months." She waves a hand, careless.
She's playing at something. She must be. Lizzie just doesn't know what. "Alright. You have my attention."
"Oh, good, you admit it, now we're getting somewhere." Emily goes on smoothly. "Here's the deal. Last I heard of my charming stepmother, you had her serving on the Dutchman, aye? Think about that a moment, if you will, Captain. Mrs. Jade Turner, serving on the Flying Dutchman, no doubt a little the worse for wear by now. It's papa's worst nightmare! Allow him the chance to see her and you'll have all the pain and suffering your vengeful little black heart could possibly desire, never mind if he could be convinced to serve on the Dutchman himself."
"And you'd hand him over to me?" Lizzie asks slowly. "Just what is it you'd be trading his life for?"
This draws a wince out of Emily, just the slightest hint of one, but Lizzie revels in the small victory anyway. Emily hesitates a bit, perhaps choosing her words. "Your help. Very simple really.
"Help? All this trouble just to ask for help?" Lizzie's skeptical now, and growing impatient again. "Why would I help you?"
"Well, there's the point of all this, right there. It's a…rather large problem I have, and I needed to be sure you'd listen."
Lizzie studies her. "I'll want the Chest back."
"You'll get the Chest back," Emily replies quickly, "I don't want the thing. You can bury it back in the sand for all I care…just as soon as my problem is taken care of."
Lizzie snorts. "Oh, now, see, here's the thing, dear." She draws her sword. "I think you're forgetting that you're all alone out here." She holds it up to her daughter's neck (somewhere in that far off corner of her mind, Elizabeth stirs at this, screams no, but Lizzie ignores her.) "And only one of us can be hurt."
Lightning flashes, not too far out now. The thunder rolls, and it seems the storm that's been threatening is moving more rapidly as if in response to Lizzie's mood.
Emily goes rigid, eyebrows raising as she stares down Lizzie's blade. "Erm, right. Excellent point, but might I remind you of the cannon that could blow the Chest itself to kingdom come." Her voice is shakier now.
"I'm almost willing to bet your bluffing." Lizzie presses forward just an inch, the point of her sword pricking a shallow cut in Emily's neck.
"Aye, then, well. In that case." And then…she vanishes. Literally. Lizzie blinks, lowering her sword a fraction, and even her snakes go silent in confusion. What the hell has just happened? The sound of a sword being drawn reaches her ears. "Ah ha!" Emily's voice rings out from somewhere behind her. "I knew I'd get that down eventually."
Lizzie whirls around, staring blankly. Emily's standing in the sand just a few feet away, one hand holding her sword, the other planted on her hip sassily. "What sort of witchery is this?"
"Ah, nothing too different from your little parlor tricks, turns out I can do that and then some, something to do with being born of an immortal, though I'm also told gaining the favor of a goddess helps. Could be I have a leg up on you in that case, quite a feat I suppose, seeing as I've only got the one." She holds up her bad leg and knocks on the wooden peg.
A surge of annoyance heats Lizzie's blood. "Enough!" She hisses, charging forward with her sword. It clashes with Emily's, who blocks the attack solidly to spite her earlier hesitance to fight at all. "Your father and I always knew that mouth would get you into trouble one day!"
More lightning. The thunder crashes more than it rolls this time; the ground beneath them rumbles, but the rains hold off.
Emily snorts. "Last I checked I got that from you, though at least I still have a pretty face to make up for it!"
Lizzie pulls back and lunges again, and then they're storming right across the beach as the thunder rolls and crashes and the wind picks up. Lizzie's snakes dart out whenever her daughter gets close, hissing as they attempt to sink their fangs into flesh. Emily is quick, though, to spite her leg, and is very good with her blade. Under different circumstances, Lizzie might even be enjoying the challenge being presented her. As it is, she can't bring herself to be anything less than annoyed at best. It's because of this annoyance that she takes so long to realize…her daughter's leg. It's a very distinct disadvantage here in the sand. Emily's used to it by now, is young and strong and has obviously learned how to compensate for it, but if Lizzie can time it just right… She pretends to hesitate as another crack of thunder shakes the earth beneath them, stumbling over a charred old crate sitting half buried in the sand. This should leave Emily with two simple options – take what could be her only chance to slow Lizzie down, or anticipate Lizzie's next move and hold back.
There's no time to deliberate. Emily, impulsive as her mother knew she would be, lunges forward, aiming for her mother's leg. Lizzie sweeps to the side easily, jabs with her own blade, pushes forward, and twists. Emily's good leg gives out in an instant; her free hand shoots down to clutch at the wound as she cries out in pain. She doesn't collapse, though, and she's tough, Lizzie will give her that. She brings up her sword, ready to keep going.
(Elizabeth is crying out now, getting louder, trying to make it stop, but Lizzie shoves her back. Shut it, shut it.)
Their swords clash again, but Emily is shakier now. She blocks most every attack, but isn't moving as fast. It isn't long before her blade slips, and that's what Lizzie needed. She slices through Emily's one arm, the side of her stomach, across her cheek. Emily manages to bring her blade up again still, blocking the one last attack, but she's half limping, favoring a leg that's bad to begin with, can't keep her balance. She's thrown back, dropping her sword in an effort just to catch herself.
Lizzie cackles. Oh, this will be good. She'll bring back the battered supposed captain to her precious Queen and the rest should be easy for all that Emily's crew will be terrified if they have any sense. Lizzie will have her heart and Will and…and…
Her victory is very short lived. The thunder is beginning to grow quieter again; the strange storm seems to already be running its course. The sun peers through a small break in the clouds and with the sudden light, Lizzie is given a glimpse of what she's actually dealing with. Emily's wounds are healing right before her eyes, stitching themselves back together inhumanly fast.
Emily grabs her sword and climbs to her feet, that infuriating smirk playing at her lips again. "Born of an immortal." She repeats slowly. "We could do this all day and both come out none the worse for wear."
Lizzie forces herself to pause, thinks on that a moment. It's beginning to sound as though, just maybe, her daughter actually knows what she's doing here. (Elizabeth would be applauding, is relieved and beyond impressed. Lizzie grudgingly admits she is as well). "Immortal?"
"Immortal." Emily twirls her sword a bit as she brings one hand up to wipe the blood from her now unblemished skin. "You should've tried asking our goddess about just what you are. Now you've got some catching up to do." The smirk fades, any trace of the façade she's been keeping up falling away. "We can keep going, if it'll make you feel better, but it won't get either of us where we want to be."
Lizzie eyes her a moment, then nods slowly. "Very well." She sheathes her sword. "How do you propose we do this, then?"
"I keep the heart, insurance, but pop over to my Queen, grab Papa and send him on his way – you, erm, wait here, if you'd be so kind. Bit of peace of mind on my end. Anyway, ten long years at sea, I don't suppose you're that over eager to be back on the Dutchman again, aye?"
Emily doesn't have the key. That considerably lessens the amount of what Elizabeth has to lose. Eager to sink her claws back into Will and growing weary of her daughter's nattering, Lizzie reaches out with one webbed hand in response, snatching the younger woman's to wash away the dark, ugly Spot marring her palm. Emily looks down, perhaps a touch green about the gills as she snatches her hand back covered in a greenish slime. "Deal."
"Cap'n!" Jo stutters, causing Alex to pause in the pacing he's been keeping up ever since they made it back to the Queen. Will's been sitting on the steps leading up to the helm, leaning forward with arms on his knees, but shoots to his feet at Jo's exclamation.
Sure enough, Emily's standing on deck now, still wet from her impromptu swim and looking a little the worse for wear, but none of the wounds appear to have lasted. "Emily!" Alex exclaims, quite forgetting himself it seems as he shoots forward to grab her by the shoulders, looking her over. "Are ye alright? How did ye…"
"Another useful little magic trick," Emily grins, toothy, "and stop worrying, I'm alright." She looks past the boy, to Will, her smile fading just slightly. "There's been a slight change in plans, though." She pulls out of Alex's arms, crossing the deck to Will. "It was the only way I could make it work. She wants you."
"Me?" Will glances at the Dutchman nervously. "How did she know…?"
Emily's eyes harden a touch. "My goddess had something to do with that, it seems. I'll be sure to bring it up the next time she sees fit to pay me a visit. The point is, I've managed to convince mother… well, it doesn't matter, none of it was true of course." She meets his eyes as though worried he won't believe her. "But she thinks we've worked out a trade."
"Trade? And what is it she thinks you're trading me for?"
"Her help in solving a problem. Never mind the fact the problem is her." Emily seems rather proud of herself. "Point is, I've got it worked out now. She's waiting on the beach." She turns halfway to address her first mate, as though just thinking of it. "Jo…"
"Riley reappeared not too long after these two made it back to the ship." Jo answers, knowing what Emily was going to ask without the younger woman actually having to ask it. "He's…well, you'll see. He's down in your cabin, and yes, everything's set up already."
Emily nods. "Get a boat ready again." She turns back to Will as Jo barks at several others to carry the order out.
"So, I row over quite on my own and hope that you've managed to cast the spell by the time I get there?" He tries not to sound quite as uneasy as this is making him.
"We will have it cast by then. You just – worry about what you'll say to mother. We've only got one shot at this, especially now."
"Comforting."
Emily's façade falls, just a moment. "Hope, remember? Never let go of it. Jo told me something just the other day – the opposite of love is indifference, not hate. Mother must still care somehow if she wants you back so bad. You just – have to make her remember when things were good, right?"
"Seems to be a lot of the good was tainted by bad in some form or another." Will shakes his head, resigned. "Emily, if this doesn't work…"
"It will." She cuts him off firmly, sounding more the captain again. "I'm more worried about…just remember everything I told mother was a lie."
"You do seem to be rather talented at that."
"Well, I don't think anyone will be complaining if said talent just happens to have saved all our arses." She softens a fraction again. "Please, Papa. Just trust me."
He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Aye, Cap'n." And with that, he leaves her.
Now, Emily is proud of herself. And why shouldn't she be? She's all but won already! And she did it without a sword ending up in someone's chest. And Riley! He's here! He's safe! It's all smooth sailing from here, surely. She'll go down with Jo, cast the spell all slow and careful like they'd gone over with Ana countless times, and her papa will do his thing… in fact, that's the only thing that has her remotely worried, but if there's anything at all left of her mother, even that should go just fine. Really, it should. It will.
She turns to Jo and Alex, a smile threatening to spread her lips again, but neither of them looks happy. In fact, they exchange a look and Jo's got on that scowl-grimace that suggests something is really, very wrong. "What is it?" Emily asks, a hint of worry beginning to fray her nerves.
"About Riley." Jo hesitates. "The thing is…"
Any trace of the smile fades in an instant. "He did get the key?" She feels bad the moment the words leave her mouth. "I mean…"
Alex's face contorts in abrupt anger. "Aye. He could barely walk, never mind the fact 'e's been talkin nonsense since 'e made it back, but sure, 'e got yer bloody key!"
Emily shakes her head, unable to respond, unable to think past Riley and the words 'could barely walk'. Spinning around, hands shaking, she darts below decks and heads straight for her cabin as her heart sinks down to where her stomach should be.
We're just about there now. One more chapter and we'll have Elizabeth back. I'm going to try and get it up before Christmas, but that might not happen as I have some school work that needs focusing on this week and I might not want to do much more than just relax a bit the next one knowing myself.
That said, just in case this is my last update, Merry Christmas everybody!