(no subject)

[bringmethatnpc]

The deck of the Pearl is covered in wreckage. Pieces of boats and broken barrels lie splintered and shattered everywhere, as do chunks torn from the kraken's tentacles by the force of the explosion.

Some are still burning.

Cotton climbs unsteadily up from belowdecks, his parrot on his shoulder. Slowly, Gibbs gets to his feet and staggers to the nearest rail. Nearby Marty shoves his way out from under a pile of wreckage and comes to join Gibbs, asking,

"Did we kill it?"

Comments

[try_corsets]

That's just fine, as she is not entirely able to meet his, either. Elizabeth sits down and resolutely does not look up for the man she knows won't be following.

"He elected to stay behind," she says brusquely, "to give us a chance."

[bringmethatnpc]

Slowly, the rest of the drew all look up at the side of the Black Pearl, and there is silence apart from the splash of the waves and the wind causing sails to flap.

It feels...

(cold)

Doesn't seem right, but Jack is the captain, it's his choice to make. Nobody moves.

[try_corsets]

Elizabeth doesn't want them to think too hard about it.

Why aren't they rowing? Don't they realize he's (chained to the mast) not coming?

Don't they know what awaits if they don't move now?

"Go!" she yells.

[bringmethatnpc]

Marty releases the mooring line as it it's burning, and the boat drifts slowly away, picking up pace as Pintel and Ragetti find the oars and start to row.

Most of the others still stare back, disbelieving, or maybe waiting for him to pull something, maybe even come swimming after them all. Because it's Captain Jack Sparrow. It's Jack.




Not Jack.