bringmethatnpc | (no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Barbossa smiles both at Will's question and Mal's intervention.

"Ah, Captain Reynolds, a man of the world, I see. Yes, unfortunately the charts are kind of a... Religious relic to the heathen priests. So I'm afraid yes, stealth and thievery are going to be the only way to get them."

He doesn't seem exceedingly disturbed at the prospect. Shocking, isn't it?

Will personally isn't surprised. Or daunted. He just nods.

"Now, time -will- be a factor once we get to Singapore, so I propose the... Liberation of those charts be undertaken simultaneously to our negotiations with Sao Feng. By a small group, probably no more than one man or two."

And here his gaze falls upon Will and Mal once more. Will, after all, has quite a history of sneaking into places and Mal... Well, he -does- seem like a gentleman of fortune, doesn't he? Plus, he'd rather not have either of them at his back in Sao Feng's lair.

"[At your service]," Mal retorts under his breath in sarcastic Chinese.

Not that anyone notices the inherent sarcasm, beyond his barely-suppressed eyeroll.

Looking to Will, Mal winks.

There's a flicker of a familiar smile for Mal, casual and companionable for all it fades when Will looks back to Barbossa.

"When do we set sail?"

Barbossa's eyebrows raise slightly, and he looks around like a speaker asking for support.

"Sometimes I wonder why do I bother to speak in English, certainly. As has already been said, mister Turner, first mister Gibbs and I will sail to Tortuga to hire" There is a mild distaste in the way he pronounces that word "a crew and ship that can sail us to Panama. -Then- we will come fetch the rest of you."

He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms.

"Have I been clear enough or should I repeat it, using smaller words this time?"

Having held her tongue in sullen silence as long as she can stand, Elizabeth finds this last comment to be too much.

"You've been clear enough about that part of the plan," she shoots back. "Less so about others. But I think it's obvious we're done here. We will await your return from Tortuga."

Giving the assembled group a twitchy nod of her head, she stalks outside.

She hadn't walked with him, but over by her table Tia Dalma lovingly strokes the bright plumage of a stuffed bird and listens without expression.

Elizabeth storms out; the talk seems done, and she turns about, delciate fingers picking through the assortment of objects on the table.

She won't need to bring much.