(no subject)

[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.

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[try_corsets]

Elizabeth bites back a sharp retort. The worry lines on her brow smooth out, and her voice turns quiet as she asks, "Did you do this? The door, the Pearl... Any of it?"

She wants to believe that Tia Dalma is responsible -- that it's not all random, and Jack is now where he should be, where they can rescue him.

[touch-destiny.livejournal.com]

Beads clatter in her hair and feathers float when she shakes her head, before the black eyes are turned back on Elizabeth.

"To move Jack Sparrow and him Pearl from their place is beyond my power," she says. "There was always a way to bring him back to where he supposed to be, someone to take him there." Her soft Caribbean accent turns nearly sad, but it's impossible to tell what her expression might mean.

"I could only call. The door come on its own."

It is perhaps...not strictly true. But it is never wise to take what Tia Dalma says literally.

[try_corsets]

"I thought it never would," Elizabeth says firmly.

She wonders, briefly, if James managed to escape. There's nothing to be done about it now, but she would have liked a last word. Several in fact, and not all of them kind.

Tia Dalma's words so frequently require several moments of consideration, and there's a lengthy pause before Elizabeth adds, "Will you come with us?"

It's a question born of curiosity, impatience and grudgingly acknowledged need, not a polite request.

[touch-destiny.livejournal.com]

Her nod is slow.

"Yes."

She searches Elizabeth's face for a moment longer, finding stubborness and frustration and even a little worry there before turning away until her own eyes can no longer be seen. "I be as bound to this quest an' it's triumph as any of you."

[try_corsets]

Privately, Elizabeth thinks that no one could have as much riding on this venture as she does herself. In her guilt, it doesn't occur to her that others stand to lose nearly as much, even Will. Confusion flits across her face and her brow wrinkles in a stubborn frown.

"Good," she replies.

Triumph. She wants to ask if they will succeed. If Jack will live and Cutler Beckett will fall from grace. Reason staves off the urge, and as she searches the mystic's profile, she wonders why the other woman is so bound to their quest.

"Barbosa won't tell us his full plan." She pauses. "Do you trust him?"

Another person might ask if Barbosa can be trusted. Elizabeth knows better.

[touch-destiny.livejournal.com]

Without answering, she looks over her shoulder, turning her solemn black gaze on the pirate captain who stands so boldly in her house, and she is looking away yet when she speaks to Elizabeth:

"He has struck a deal, an such things have a power of their own."

The words are firm enough, and yet there is an undercurrent of uncertainty that carries them, and her eyes are troubled.

"We have no choice."

[try_corsets]

(I have no choice)

"No, we do not," Elizabeth agrees, and it's an admission made with some reluctance but little of her usual stubborn, supercilious attitude, as she draws level with Tia Dalma and watches her closely. Recognizing an unfamiliar note in the other woman's voice, something unexpected, Elizabeth raises an eyebrow and also turns her attention to Barbossa, continuing, "He is our hope, then."

Her voice rises at the last, as if she is tempted to smile, tempted to allow a disbelieving laugh at this ridiculous twist of fate.

"It is good he has struck a deal, whatever it may be." Her eyes gleam. "That means he has someone to answer to other than himself."

A sidelong look at Tia Dalma is the only hint of her raging desire to know what sort of deal he has struck, and why.