Once, Davy Jones thought that Calypso's betrayal would kill him. Then, he thought the pain from carving out the muscle would surely be the end of him. Strange how a broken sword in a dead man's hand, really, is what ends him.
Every tentacle that builds his beard up spasms wildly, thrashing with sudden, terrible pain as he staggers toward the rise of the ship, his great round eyes wide with sudden pain and the slow approach of it's surcease.
He looks up, shocked, stunned, dying as surely as Will did, and murmurs the only thing he can think of-- a woman's name, a plea to an unforgiving God...
"Calypso..."
And then the storm claims him as he topples backward into the maelstrom, lost to the depths -- the loving embrace of the sea that would be tamed for no man -- not even the one who loved her best.
Perhaps is it no surprise that the maelstrom begins to calm when Jones is gone beneath the black and choppy waves...
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Every tentacle that builds his beard up spasms wildly, thrashing with sudden, terrible pain as he staggers toward the rise of the ship, his great round eyes wide with sudden pain and the slow approach of it's surcease.
He looks up, shocked, stunned, dying as surely as Will did, and murmurs the only thing he can think of-- a woman's name, a plea to an unforgiving God...
"Calypso..."
And then the storm claims him as he topples backward into the maelstrom, lost to the depths -- the loving embrace of the sea that would be tamed for no man -- not even the one who loved her best.
Perhaps is it no surprise that the maelstrom begins to calm when Jones is gone beneath the black and choppy waves...