bringmethatnpc | AWE: On the Beach of Davy Jones' Locker

AWE: On the Beach of Davy Jones' Locker

It's a long, unpleasant fall from the edge of the world into Davy Jones' Locker, there's no question at all of that.

And it's a truly ragtag group that eventually finds its way one by one up onto the beach. Still, despite the fact that they're all half-drowned and bedraggled, they're doing better by far than their ship.

That unfortunate vessel's washing up on the beach as well-- in pieces.

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Ragetti hears the faint tumbling crash, but spends a few seconds looking in entirely the wrong direction, refusing to believe the evidence of his ears. Noting the utter lack of Black Pearl on the ocean, though, he turns back to the beach just in time to see her come cresting over the great yellow wave of the sand.

It's a scene that, quite frankly, defies words.

Ragetti points, as if anyone could fail to spot the great dark ship amongst the pale dunes, and says helpfully: "...boat!"

Wellard watches as the Pearl slides down from the dunes and into the sea, a faint, distant smile spreading across his features. With everyone else showing up in this places-

This would almost be normal.

("What a man can do-")

He glances at Ragetti, then back to the Pearl settling in the water. Quietly, Wellard shakes his head. "Ship."

Gibbs breaks out in a bemused smile. He really shouldn't be at all surprised. This Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.

"Slap me thrice and hand me to my mama, it's Jack!"

'Tis truly an iconic moment in a life of such moments for captain and first mate.

It's really and truly Jack. After all they have been through, they've actually succeeded. Jack will be free of the Locker, and everything will be as it was.

Everything will be all right.

Smiling with wonder, Elizabeth starts forward to greet the pirate they'd come to find, but then she hesitates,

(I'm not sorry)

not at all sure of her reception.

Half the Pearl's crew step forward eagerly as Captain Jack sails... uh... over sand... but towards 'em!

"It's the Captain!" Pintel says, stating the obvious in his relief.

'Cause everything's going be all right now, right? Jack's unpredictable, but he sure makes you feel better being around.

"A sight for sore eyes." And looking none the worse for wear. Not a zombie or a skeleton or at all dead looking.

Not everyone on the beach is so pleased to see the Captain return.

"Rrrak!" The parrot warns. "Hide the Rum!"

There's a grating sound as the much smaller rowboat -- a dinghy, really -- beaches itself against the beach sand, followed by a loud splash as Jack steps overboard into the waves and comes striding toward them.

He's not smiling. In fact, Jack looks rather dangerous just at the moment.

"Jack!" Sometimes, keeping to proper protocol is nigh on impossible. Sometimes, it's good to see a friend.

Or maybe not, judging from his reaction as he snaps,

"Mr. Gibbs!"

"Aye, Captain!" He snaps to attention as best as a pirate ever can, but it's clear that Jack isn't quite so happy to see him. How odd.

"I thought so."

Jack reaches them, but pays absolutely no attention to anyone else as he rounds on Gibbs.

"I expect you're able to account for your actions, then."

He's clearly waiting for an explanation.

"Sir?"

He's sure he didn't do anything wrong. Unless leaving the ship right before Jones arrived to claim it was somehow an error. Which doesn't make sense.

Meaning, perhaps, that once again Jack has taken leave of his senses.

"There's been a perpetual and virulent lack of discipline upon my vessel," Jack informs him. "Why?"

Half a second's breath, and then Jack's sharp questioning becomes an edged, demanding shout.

"Why is that, sir?!"

Gibbs fidgets. Truth is, discipline had declined before they ran into Jones. But that was months ago, and certainly a crew of three isn't going to have any problems. He decides not to answer the question.

"Sir, you're..." He pauses and plows on, sure that he's really not at fault. "You're in Davey Jones' Locker, sir."

Jack just stares at him.

(lost and found and lost again to find)

A confused uncertainty flickers in the black eyes for several long seconds before he nods, short and sharp.

"I know that."

He doesn't sound like he's sure of it, but as he continues, his voice strengthens.

"I know where I am. And don't think I don't!" Jack concludes, decisively.

Barbossa watches the exchange with an odd little smirk. Usually, he'd be glad to have his plan come one step closer to completion, even though in good reason he should be more than a little bitter at the sight of Jack and the thought of having to bring him back to life. That's a privilege what should be kept to those deserving, after all.

But this time there's more. For all the spite and the hatred, Barbossa won't deny Jack's brilliance, even if he can't make up a serious plan for the life of him. And to see him so far gone into insanity almost makes him feel pity.

Almost. But not even pity can make Barbossa reject a chance to gloat. And so, he steps forwards and puts on his best big fake smile.

"Jack Sparrow..."

Jack turns away from Gibbs at the sound of this voice and visibly brightens.

"Ah! Héctor!"

A genuinely pleased smile breaks over his face as he takes a few steps along the sand, coming to a slightly swaying halt in front of the other man.

"It's been too long--"

Half a beat, and a hint of uncertainty.

"-- hasn't it?"

Barbossa smiles even wider, an almost beatific, paternal look on his face.

"Aye. Isla de Muerta, remember...?"

And at this his smile turns into something fiercer, colder.

"You shot me."

Jack stares blankly at him for a few seconds, then shakes his head.

"No I didn't."

Having settled that, he looks away from Barbossa and spots another familiar face.

"Tia Dalma!" He steps sideways, grinning cheerfully down at her.

"Out and about, aye? You add an agreeable sense of the macabre to any delirium."

Will's grinning, but he's distinctly unamused by any of this performance. By the time Jack's addressing Tia Dalma, and she seems unsure what to say, Will's had enough.

"He thinks we're a hallucination."

Jack whirls on him.

"William, tell me something." He cocks his head to one side, setting the beads in his hair clattering against each other.

It sounds like the dry rattle of bones.

"Have you come because you need my help to save a certain distressing damsel--"

He corrects himself, flicking his fingers in the air to wave the mistake away.

"Er, rather-- damsel in distress? Either one?"

Jack looks quizzically at Will, waiting for an answer.

The answer comes quickly, impatiently, and unamused at having Jack of all people mention Elizabeth.

"No."

"Then you wouldn't be here, now would you?"

He sounds a little impatient, as if he's vexed at having to explain the obvious.

"So you can't be here. QED," Jack concludes triumphantly, flicking his fingers at Will to emphasize his point, "you're not really here."

This isn't quite the reaction Elizabeth had expected. Brow furrowed, she carefully steps forward like she's approaching a wild animal.

"Jack," she says, voice low. "This is real. We're here."

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