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[ofmovedsails-blog]

                                                   Haven’t you heard?

                                                             I’m a

                                                    [ M O N S T E R ] 

                                                   and you should run

                                                     while you still can. 

[ofmovedsails-blog]

               With both hands on her shoulders, Jack thrusts some distance between them to look her over in what might have been wonder and confusion. His question draws the corners of her lips down a touch. She might have even answered him. The touch of his hands on her bare shoulders gives way to instability in her shape, though,  and— - like an apparition or a ghost from too many months at sea - —she flickers into nothingness; leaving him alone in the dark.

     Pearl is familiar with the dark, familiar with everything that goes bump in the night. But after a human form, after the  smell and touch and sight of everything she hadn’t before, to be thrown back into the empty space between his thoughts brought an ache with it. 

She cannot reappear to him, hard as she tries. He cannot see her- no one can see her -and she doesn’t wonder why it leaves her cold.

He was both incredibly uncomfortable but also he felt quite reassured that everything was alright. He had his mind and his heart bursting in a mix of feelings he could not comprehend. - But how? - He asked, placing his hands on her shoulders and making her lean back a little, so he could look at her, really look at her.

- How is this possible? - It was even worse considering he was aboard Pearl at that very moment! How was she here and there at the same time?

[ofmovedsails-blog]

                                                          ❛ I know those G U N S ——! ❜

                                   It’s  The   P E A R L .

[ofmovedsails-blog]

               The question is blunt and makes her shake her head. Nose wrinkling at the thought, she pouts her lips a moment before she answers. Though she isn’t sure what she had expected, Jack’s persistent disbelief is within her realm of notion. When she speaks to him again, her voice is calm; gentle.

❝ Not at all. ❞ It’s an insistent retort and she smiles all over again just to have him near. The smell of sweat and salty, ocean air and fatigue and rum kisses their skin together and she wants to join it too. Her brow finds his and her eyes fall shut. Words bubble up in the space between them.  ❝ We are  both very much alive, Jack. ❞

Her whole aura, her soul felt like one of a child, and as she sat on his lap, looking at him in such a way he had never been looked at before… Jack knew he had lost his mind. - Am I dead?

He certainly didn’t feel dead but he had definitely lost his mind at least. This was all a dream, it was the only explanation wasn’t it?

[ofmovedsails-blog]

               Her name pours from his lips; leaps the air and dances against her skin like a gust of salty air. It erupts her into a titter of giggles, eager and joyous. It tosses her head back and sways her dark locks against bare shoulders and throat. When her gaze returns to Jack, her smile is still broad and warm.

❝ Aye. ❞ she coos, arms finding the slope of his shoulders; her hands the nape of his neck. Sinking onto his knee, she trails one hand up to push his hat off of his brow and cocks her head to look fondly on his face. ❝ Him precious PEARL. ❞

Jack was terribly confused by the woman’s demeanour and yet he found her incredibly interesting in her ways. She walked with such ease, such poise, it wasn’t like any other he had seen. Her dark skin and hair gave her an appeal which he did not know existed on Earth.

He tilted his head as she came closer, his coal eyes staring into hers. He felt like he knew her, but he had never seen her before. What an odd feeling, he thought.

And then… her voice…

His eyes widened, he had heard that voice before, a long time ago. - Pearl?

[ofmovedsails-blog]

RP starters: Concern.

“It’s midnight, where the hell were you?!”

“Stop keeping your phone in silent, you got me worried!”

“Blood? Are you bleeding?”

“I don’t like the idea of you walking down the streets all alone.”

“I thought I would never see you again…”

“We should get you to hospital.”

“Where did all those bruises came from?”

“I have the right to be worried!”

“Have you been drinking? You look terrible.”

“Sleep at my place tonight.”

“I don’t feel safe letting you be alone when you’re in that shape.”

“Please talk to me about it.”

“Let me take care of you.”

“You need to rest now. Don’t move.”

“How many times have I told you to not go there?”

“You could’ve died, you know…”

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help, I’ll do it anyways.”

“You really need to stop drinking. I’m serious.”

“This time you got yourself into a hospital. I think that’s a sign.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You need to stop doing stupid shit like that or you will get yourself killed.”

“I’m your friend, of course I care!”

“You know I’m always here for you, right?”

“You’re not okay.”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“Let me clean your wounds…”

“Why did you do it? Tell me.”

[ofmovedsails-blog]

               He doesn’t lift his head until he’s already asked a question of her; expecting her to be someone else. Gibbs, probably, but she knows he is snoring away a boisterous tonic below deck. When he does look her way, it isn’t without it’s reservations. He doesn’t know her and, yet, there’s something deep in his gaze that tells her differently.

     Quite all at once, she cannot help herself. She is elated, euphoric even, when she had thought she could be more contained. Pearl is smiling where Jack is not. Not yet.

When she takes her first  step toward him, it isn’t around the desk. Her knee finds the tabletop, hiking the folds of her damask trappings high up her thigh, and she hoists herself onto it instead. Then she is level with him, obsidian irises staring intently while dimples press into olive cheeks darkened by the sun. 

He is sitting back, but she leans as far as she can so their faces are close and her smile only deepens as a voice— - HER voice - —coos from somewhere in her chest.

❝ Hello, Jack~ ❞

He heard no response from his first mate and sighed, putting down his quill. When Gibbs was silent it could only mean trouble either within his ever so troubled head or amongst the crews heads. Neither of which Jack wanted to deal with now or any time soon.

- Well go on then, what’s it about this time? - He asked, sitting back on his chair and finally looking towards the door but it was not Gibbs he saw standing there. A woman stood before him - arguably a much more pleasant sight than Gibbs - which was odd since they hadn’t been on land for at least one month and no woman came aboard his ship.

Even so, she felt oddly… familiar. - Do I know you?

[ofmovedsails-blog]

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[ofmovedsails-blog]

               It's a curious feeling; bare feet on rough wood where the smooth varnish of  lacquer has long since worn away on the planks. . .

             HER planks; HER feet.

     On legs as steady as a newborn calf’s, she sways along with the rock of her hull. Miles of heady dreadlocks scratch against black damask wrapped around her breast, hips, waist. The touch of it all, a feeling that doesn’t erase the chill of the ocean against her and as the wind raises her sails in a hearty gust, she almost goes up with them until— -

❝ Jack. ❞ His name bubbles up her throat with a curl to it’s pitch that reminds her of a song she hasn’t heard in years. It’s accompanied by a smile and, almost suddenly, she is standing in front of a door; her captain’s quarters. With a breath of hesitation, her hand lands on the handle and her chest flutters with the delight of it’s landing as she sways into the motion of opening the door.

@ofblacksails

The captain had kept himself quite secluded to his cabin over the past few days, muttering away with his own thoughts and thinking about their next move. At the young age of his mid 30′s, Jack Sparrow had gone through hell and back, and he had no intentions of going back to the black hole which he had dug himself out of.

But his thoughts were his worst enemy, and the crew began to worry not seeing jolly old Jack half as often as they would like. When he heard the door of his cabin open, his eyes were still set on his charts, the coat thrown over the back of his chair, his hat lost under a pile of papers. - I’m busy, this better be important Gibbs.

[ofmovedsails-blog]

                              the reappearance of the crescent moon after the new moon ;   the return of the sun after a total eclipse,   the rising of the sun in the morning after its troublesome absence at night were noted by people around the world ;   these phenomena spoke to our ancestors of the possibility of surviving death.   up there in the skies was also   a metaphor of immortality.

[ofmovedsails-blog]

                                                    @iamercer;;

                                        ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ ship, ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ crew.

[ofmovedsails-blog]

i feel like no one talks about this scene

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[ofmovedsails-blog]

              ❝you’re not begging,                       I’m offering.❞

     Without waiting for his quip, Pearl grabbed the once-commodore by his arm and heaved him up onto his feet. Despite her small stature- he was left in a stoop with his weight resting upon her shoulders -she dragged him along with her in surprising ease. Her only inkling of strain was in dumping him in a chair to which she seemed unable to extend any gentility in her action and simply dropped him, unceremoniously, on his backside.

@thepromiseofredemption.

               ❝you’re hurt.                       just shut up &&                        let me help you.❞

[ofmovedsails-blog]

Zuleikha Robinson as Jessica - Merchant of Venice (2004)

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