(no subject)
Aug. 5th, 2006 10:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bringmethatnpcYou don't venture into the captain's cabin, on board the Dutchman. Especially not when there's any sort of music coming out. When it's the music-box it's especially deadly to interrupt him ... but it's almost as bad when it's the organ.
Tentacles clutch and hammer at the stepped keyboards like the hands of a madman, and the organ groans and bellows and thunders like the storm outside.
-----
Lightning flashes, wind tears at the sails; rain slams down, making the deck slippery and treacherous. The crew of the Dutchman works through the storm, hauling a cannon into its new place.
Over the noise of the thunder, the bo'sun bawls "Secure the mast tackle, Mr. Turner! Step to it!"
On the rain-lashed deck below, two Mr. Turners look up and move to obey.
Tentacles clutch and hammer at the stepped keyboards like the hands of a madman, and the organ groans and bellows and thunders like the storm outside.
Lightning flashes, wind tears at the sails; rain slams down, making the deck slippery and treacherous. The crew of the Dutchman works through the storm, hauling a cannon into its new place.
Over the noise of the thunder, the bo'sun bawls "Secure the mast tackle, Mr. Turner! Step to it!"
On the rain-lashed deck below, two Mr. Turners look up and move to obey.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-08 02:14 pm (UTC)One.
Rain and sea spray sting his eyes, blur his vision -- but not enough to block out the sight of the blood.
Two.
Or of Davy Jones's satisfied, lipless smile.
Three.
And the roar of the sea and the storm isn't anything like loud enough to drown out the crack of the whip against bare flesh, or the stifled cry of pain at each blow.
Four.
The water trickling down his face isn't from the rain.
Five.