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[bringmethatnpc]

Deep in a bayou near the mouth of the Pantano River, a wooden shack sits among twisted vines, high roots, and still, stagnant water. Moonlight illuminates the scene, and the shack is lit from within by what seems like hundreds of candles. A single lantern at the entrance beckons all those who dare to step over the threshold.

Not long ago, only a few days or so, the shack and tangle of surrounding trees was the site of a wake for Captain Jack Sparrow.

The shack had been overflowing with pirates that night. Tia Dalma offered drinks to fight the chill and the sorrow, and the return of another dead pirate gave the crew hope where previously there had been none. Some of those pirates seemed to disappear that night. No one asked too many questions, however, as the shack is bigger than it appears on the outside and the unexpected is to be expected wherever Tia Dalma is found.

But now the missing parties are starting to return. Some are even accompanied by people who had not been there before.

Comments

[try_corsets]

Sitting in the very same spot Will had occupied months before, staring at the still-fresh grooves in the wooden table, Elizabeth wishes she had his knife. The solid thunk that had so annoyed her then might be welcome now. She clenches her jaw and wipes the back of a hand across her damp forehead, muttering under her breath.

They've already been here for half an hour . Still no Will.

She hasn't answered any questions yet. When she does, she's tempted to let ‘sea turtles’ be her only explanation.

[badinlatin]

Mal doesn't ask any questions. Rather:

"Quite a show, disappearin' like that."

He's smiling, even as he moves closer to both Elizabeth and Tonks.

[try_corsets]

Perhaps that's one reason Elizabeth likes Mal so well; he doesn't ask a lot of questions. At least not the sort she would rather not answer.

"Captain Reynolds!" she exclaims, voice shrill with her surprise. Very nearly overturning her chair and knocking her forehead against a bottle containing what looks to be lizards, Elizabeth jumps up and forward, craning her neck to get a look at the room beyond Mal.

It looks just the same as it did before.

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

One of the many doors in the cabin opens, and the sound of heavy boots on old wood returns to the shack a few days after its departure.

Thunk

Barbossa emerges from the shadows, a dark half-grin on his face, taking a deep breath of the thick, humid, swampy air and a slow look around.

Thunk

He speaks to no one in specific. THis is a man who likes the sound of his own voice, all right.

"Here we are, then. Let's just hope the others arrive soon so we can start with the terrible task at hand."

He truly believes that. It's terrible, having to bring Jack back from the dead.

[try_corsets]

"Why is it terrible?" Elizabeth asks. Dark, insouciant eyes study his face, then go back to watching her finger trace a narrow, fresh slice in the dark wood. The wood underneath is lighter, and the mark is barely splintering on the edges. "Rescuing Jack is what we all want."

Her tone leaves no room for argument. Now that they have returned, Elizabeth is bound and determined to make sure no one backs out.

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

Oh, she won't get him this easily, that's for sure. He smiles his amused little smirk and turns to her.

"Ah, miss Swann. Do you have any doubt that therrible trials, true ordeals in fact, lie ahead of us? That we few, we happy few, we band of brothers won't be tested through the metaphorical fires of Hell to prove whether we are worthy to bring a man back from beyond the gates of Death itself?"

He regards her with those sickly yellowing eyes, his lips curled in a derisive little scowl.

"Are you really that naïve stil?"

Because, you know, that's the sense in which he used the word 'terrible'. Not at all ny other, no way. He? He'll love to bring Jack back to life.

[badinlatin]

Mal has definitely never been here before, and he certainly did not expect to be arriving alone.

By the way people in the cabin regard his presence, it seems like not too many people were expecting him either.

"Hi."

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

Barbossa regards the pirate from the future, captain of a flying boat, with half-lidded eyes, then his lips curl into a fake bona fide smile.

"Captain Reynolds! Reinforcements, specially those of a professional nature, are always welcome, even if not expected precisely by all of us."

And here he gives the others a meaningful look. Okay, who invited the weird guy to the party?

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

(( And from here to Barbossa's first post in this thread here. ))

[touch-destiny.livejournal.com]

Sometime, somehow, their hostess arrived...and it would really be terrible manners if she did not make herself known to her guests, wouldn't it?

A figure brushes up against his shoulder, and if Mal looks down, he'll see a delighted, dark smile glitter up at him, and a mug held out to him. It's uncertain what might be in the mug...but it isn't tea.

Perhaps no one else was expecting him, but it rather seems like this one woman was.

Or maybe that isn't true, either.

"Captain."

[badinlatin]

Mal accepts the mug, and God only knows Mal's drunk worse, he thinks to himself as he tastes a drop of the liquid offered.

...But not by much.

A nod by way of a bow in introduction. "Miss Dalma. Sorry to drop in uninvited."

[turned_captain]

Will's the last person to arrive in the cabin, and he finds Mal once he's spoken to Elizabeth. Or past Elizabeth.

"You arrived."

[badinlatin]

"That I did -- nice to see you too."

The delay between his arrival and Will's had startled him, and it's noticable.

"Where did you go?"

[turned_captain]

The left hand path, he said.

Will isn't surprised when the trees get closer and the light gets darker, and the fresh clean air is replaced with incense and musk and smoke. He is relieved however.

The silver plumb around his neck taps cold against his skin beneath his shirt, and he glances around urgently.

"Elizabeth?"

[try_corsets]

"Will!"

With such close quarters in the shack, it's inevitable that Elizabeth shoulders someone aside to reach Will, though she does not notice who bears the brunt of her haste. Her eyes are trained on those of her husband to be, impatiently searching for answers to questions that have not yet been asked. Weaving around a chair, she comes to an abrupt halt, stiff and still, and simply stares.

She's painfully aware of their audience.

[turned_captain]

He'd been so worried when she didn't turn up for her lesson. So worried it was all he could think of. Then he'd heard she'd gone, and finding her was the most important thing.

Now he's found her and he remembers the last time he saw her, as well as how he felt the last time he was in this shack.

How she mourned the death of the man she loved.

He stops, and doesn't approach her any further.

"So we're all here?"

[touch-destiny.livejournal.com]

This is her house, and these are her guests, and she must make them welcome.

It's hard to say just when she arrives; she may have been lurking in a room just off the main one, hidden by a screen of beads and the dim, dusty light of her hut...

or she may have come late.

It hardly seems to matter.

Tia Dalma steps past a few hanging jars full of...something, and delicately pats a coiling snake on its jewel-coloured snout. Even in the orange half-light of flickering candles, her eyes are brilliant, and eager, and laughing with some secret delight.

[try_corsets]

The young woman sitting at the scarred, crowded table, looking far less uncomfortable in these strange surroundings than she had on her previous visit, has been watching for their hostess. Elizabeth had believed it only a matter of time until Tia Dalma appeared, and she is glad not to be proved wrong.

Not that she shared this expectation with anyone; she has kept her own counsel for at least a quarter hour, poised on the edge of her chair like the coiled snake across the room.

She stands, unfurling herself from the chair with surprising speed, and plants herself in the woman's path.

"Tia Dalma," is her only greeting.

[touch-destiny.livejournal.com]

Elizabeth is particularly adroit at getting in the way when someone is trying to get somewhere, but Tia Dalma's mood is mild this evening. She comes to a swaying halt, and nods in response.

"Little miss," she says, entirely unsurprised by the influx of people to her hut.

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

Barbossa walks up to the bayou witch, his face a blank mask as he stops before her, looking down at the small dark figure.

"Well met again

Calypso

Tía Dalma. Seems like most of our crew is arrived already..."

He glances aside towards the rest of the assembly, a spark of his usual derisive amusement returning to his gaze when it slides over Elizabeth and Will. Then he sees Mal and Tonks and turns back to Tía Dalma with a mirthless smirk.

"Including a couple unexpected additions. Do you think it's time for us to hold council, or should we wait for anyone else to show up?"

Don't be mistaken, he is the captain of this expedition but in this kind of enterprise, it always pays to ask your resident witch for her opinion, doesn't it?

[touch-destiny.livejournal.com]

"Barbossa."

Her voice is flat, but her eyes are wary when she greets him...but after a brief battle of wills, she smiles, and sidles up to his side to follow the path of his gaze about the room.

When she nods, beads click in her hair, and featther float among the dark coils. "They are here."

It's agreement, of sorts.

[clumsy_auror]

From the far side of the room, Tonks is watching her, grey eyes keen and measuring her every move.

She doesn't look terribly happy.

She doesn't look scared, either.

[touch-destiny.livejournal.com]

After a while, dark eyes flick towards the witch, and Tia Dalma smiles, as if in recognition. She doesn't seem surprised at all by Tonks' presence, but then why would she be? She can recognize a witch as easily as she can recognize her own face in a mirror.

She's far away; one slim brown hand lifts, loose and lazy, and beckons as though she has something she wants the witch to see.

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

Barbossa walks up to the empty table. It's not just randomly that this one isn't covered by a clutter of obscure knick-knacks, and he realizes as much, nodding to Tía Dalma. He stands at one end of the table and looks up and around at the assembled crew.

Then his voice raises into a volume high enough for all to hear.

"Ladies, gentlemen... If you will please gather? Socializing is fine and dandy, but we have a task ahead of us, don't we? And time doesn't really play on our side in this. I gather several of you are... Quite anxious about what exactly the plan is. Well, now is the time for that anxiety to be placated."

Yes, he has just phrased that as if they were the ones delaying the exposition of the plan.

[turned_captain]

Will says nothing, but turns to Barbosa, shifting weight noticeably so his hand is on his sword hilt.

He raises his head and fixes the Captain with his firm gaze, waiting to hear it.