byhisbootstraps: (Default)
[personal profile] byhisbootstraps
It's quiet down here. It's been quiet for a while now, since the cannons stopped.

Since the screaming stopped.

Bootstrap Bill Turner sits in the tangled seaweed that strews the sodden floor of the Dutchman's brig, knees drawn up (there isn't room to stretch out his legs), and watches a tiny crab make its way down the opposite wall.

Date: 2006-08-28 08:39 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

And if his eyes still burn with anger, at least he speaks with cruel pleasure: if nothing else, he will have Sparrow's death, and that will give what satisfaction it can offer.

"Reclaimed by the sea along with his precious ship."

Date: 2006-08-28 09:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Jones jerks his head, siphons flaring, gaze never leaving Bootstrap's.

"A streak of good fortune, to be certain, but one that will not hold," he snaps.

Date: 2006-08-29 03:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
His beard curls, endlessly searching the air for nothing.

"When it comes time for it to end," he continues, savoring each word as the thin, venomous smile returns, "I will see to it that you are the one who brings it about."

Date: 2006-08-29 03:34 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Jones stiffens, unmoving save the constant squirming of his tentacles. He looks down at Bootstrap's huddled form.

"Do you now?" he asks, and it's very soft.

Date: 2006-08-29 04:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Jones eyes him a moment more, hard and baleful, and leans down to say:

"You have been damned by no one but yourself, Bill Turner."

It is the same as any other man on the Dutchman.

It is the same as Davy Jones himself.

He straightens, turns, and the steady, shuddering thump of his walk begins to rattle the planks once more.


byhisbootstraps: (Default)

September 2007

161718 19202122

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 23rd, 2017 12:02 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios