Davy Jones is growing sloppy, dragging this young sailor along with Jack to the ends of the world, but that is not her concern. There is one reunion she is here to see, and it is not this small, quiet one by the sea's edge.
No one else notices, but her feet are bare and the skin is sensitive: she feels the shifting of the sand one grain at a time. It makes her step carefully, slowly, her eyes on a pale rock that tumbles from the dunes to resolve itself into a white stone crab that scuttles into the shade of her skirt. She bends down to cup it in her palm and straightens, running a fingertip lightly, lovingly, along its shell. The crab calms, settles. Its claws tickle her skin.
She's some distance from the others now, but doesn't bother to raise her voice. Instead, she speaks to the crab. "Wicked Jack is closer than you think."
Her voice is full of laughter, and her eyes, when she gazes up at the dunes with fierce satisfaction, are very bright.
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Date: 2007-09-03 04:35 pm (UTC)No one else notices, but her feet are bare and the skin is sensitive: she feels the shifting of the sand one grain at a time. It makes her step carefully, slowly, her eyes on a pale rock that tumbles from the dunes to resolve itself into a white stone crab that scuttles into the shade of her skirt. She bends down to cup it in her palm and straightens, running a fingertip lightly, lovingly, along its shell. The crab calms, settles. Its claws tickle her skin.
She's some distance from the others now, but doesn't bother to raise her voice. Instead, she speaks to the crab. "Wicked Jack is closer than you think."
Her voice is full of laughter, and her eyes, when she gazes up at the dunes with fierce satisfaction, are very bright.