The town of
May. 25th, 2010 08:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fairieloreTitle: The town of
Prompt: James/Giselle, unintentional cruelty
Rating: PG
For: cassiopaya
Notes: I'm sorry this is like... three months overdue but school + muse dying = writing at an all time low. Hope you enjoy this and that it was worth not procrastinating! <3
A man, disgraced, without a position or a penny to his name had but one place to go: Tortuga. A lawless place and one of the few that was out of the tight grasp of the East India Trading Company, which meant that there were pirates in every pub and prostitutes at every street corner. And as James Norrington got off the fishing boat that had salvaged him from the ocean’s harsh waves he knew that he had fallen from grace and that it might never be possible to hold his head up high once again.
As he wandered the dimly lit streets he wondered if it was better that he had died with the hurricane, with his ship. He had never displayed cowardice in the face of adversaries, as ruthless and dastardly as they may be but Mother Nature had bested him. When the rain had been pounding down on him hard and the only thing in sight was water, feet and feet of water he felt that it wasn’t his time to die. Not yet. He knew if he died that day he would never catch up to Jack Sparrow, that flighty, cowardly- But upon looking where he was he didn’t know if making such judgements were fair for the moment.
So here he was trudging through an alleyway that stunk of piss and whiskey, veering into the first establishment he could find. At very least he’d rather only smell whiskey. He slumped himself into a seat, not even daring to see who he was sitting beside. In all likelihood it could be someone whose face he’d seen on a Wanted poster. He ordered a whiskey, and then another, and another until he couldn’t see straight. That also meant when it came to time to pay he was in a little more the irritable.
“My payment? My payment to you miserable lot is that I’m out of a job and that I don’t have the authority to lock every one of you in prison.” He seethed, swaying as he stood. “How many lives have you ruined to have a couple galleons in your pockets, hm?” And no sooner was he punched in the gut, and almost instantly keeled over. But that wasn’t the end of it; he felt fists and feet creating bruises upon bruises.
He could swear he heard a few bones crack but it could very well be the trampling feet on the decaying wood and the clinking of glasses. He very much hoped that’s what it was.
“Stop it! Stop it, you’ll kill him!” He heard a female voice and looked up through blurry eyes, seeing an angel in yellow. “Elizabeth?” He murmured inaudibly, unable to focus them.
“Aye, you taking responsibility for this man? He needs to pay for his drinks.” The bartender asked, caring only about the dollar that he was owed.
“He will. If he doesn’t he can retrieve the payment from me.” The answer only got a grunt from the bartender but a smirk from the general public.
The two men who’d beaten him up pulled him to his feet, though he couldn’t help but teeter totter. Now that he was standing he got a better look at the woman – and she was a woman, that much was plain to him and his cheeks became even redder at thought he was staring.
“Come on now.” She said and turned heading straight out of the door, the two men who had helped him up dragged him out. No sooner had he gotten outside did he throw up at his feet and decided he was making a very bad first impression. He looked up, meeting her gaze. “W…Why?” He coughed out, his body aching.
“They might have killed you! People like you don’t last long in this town.” She said and took a few steps down the alleyway, and he followed after with the last of his energy. “Tortuga isn’t the place for you…” She said, hardly even looking for him.
“James Norrington.” He responded, though the quizzical look he received seemed to indicate she hadn’t been looking for a name.
“Yes, well, you should get away from this place as soon as you can.” She huffed, minding her step through all the broken bottles.
“I have to start again. From the bottom, work my way up. There’s nothing else I can do.”
“Nobody goes anywhere from starting at the bottom. Not unless you sell out everything you stand for. You especially, you’ll never make it anywhere.” She said with confidence, knowing this much of life. To her it was the truth, unintentionally cruel but the words cut him like a knife.
“It can be done.” He said stubbornly, refusing to believe the words. If one did not stick by their principles they would be nothing. How could he raise his head up high without his honour in tact?
“If that’s what you think then maybe you’re more at home here at Tortuga then I thought.”
Tortuga, the town of the scum, of the lawless, of pirates.
Tortuga, the town of the men with empty pockets and a dream, of honest man who had lost their way, of officers with blood on their face and dirt on their coat.
Prompt: James/Giselle, unintentional cruelty
Rating: PG
For: cassiopaya
Notes: I'm sorry this is like... three months overdue but school + muse dying = writing at an all time low. Hope you enjoy this and that it was worth not procrastinating! <3
A man, disgraced, without a position or a penny to his name had but one place to go: Tortuga. A lawless place and one of the few that was out of the tight grasp of the East India Trading Company, which meant that there were pirates in every pub and prostitutes at every street corner. And as James Norrington got off the fishing boat that had salvaged him from the ocean’s harsh waves he knew that he had fallen from grace and that it might never be possible to hold his head up high once again.
As he wandered the dimly lit streets he wondered if it was better that he had died with the hurricane, with his ship. He had never displayed cowardice in the face of adversaries, as ruthless and dastardly as they may be but Mother Nature had bested him. When the rain had been pounding down on him hard and the only thing in sight was water, feet and feet of water he felt that it wasn’t his time to die. Not yet. He knew if he died that day he would never catch up to Jack Sparrow, that flighty, cowardly- But upon looking where he was he didn’t know if making such judgements were fair for the moment.
So here he was trudging through an alleyway that stunk of piss and whiskey, veering into the first establishment he could find. At very least he’d rather only smell whiskey. He slumped himself into a seat, not even daring to see who he was sitting beside. In all likelihood it could be someone whose face he’d seen on a Wanted poster. He ordered a whiskey, and then another, and another until he couldn’t see straight. That also meant when it came to time to pay he was in a little more the irritable.
“My payment? My payment to you miserable lot is that I’m out of a job and that I don’t have the authority to lock every one of you in prison.” He seethed, swaying as he stood. “How many lives have you ruined to have a couple galleons in your pockets, hm?” And no sooner was he punched in the gut, and almost instantly keeled over. But that wasn’t the end of it; he felt fists and feet creating bruises upon bruises.
He could swear he heard a few bones crack but it could very well be the trampling feet on the decaying wood and the clinking of glasses. He very much hoped that’s what it was.
“Stop it! Stop it, you’ll kill him!” He heard a female voice and looked up through blurry eyes, seeing an angel in yellow. “Elizabeth?” He murmured inaudibly, unable to focus them.
“Aye, you taking responsibility for this man? He needs to pay for his drinks.” The bartender asked, caring only about the dollar that he was owed.
“He will. If he doesn’t he can retrieve the payment from me.” The answer only got a grunt from the bartender but a smirk from the general public.
The two men who’d beaten him up pulled him to his feet, though he couldn’t help but teeter totter. Now that he was standing he got a better look at the woman – and she was a woman, that much was plain to him and his cheeks became even redder at thought he was staring.
“Come on now.” She said and turned heading straight out of the door, the two men who had helped him up dragged him out. No sooner had he gotten outside did he throw up at his feet and decided he was making a very bad first impression. He looked up, meeting her gaze. “W…Why?” He coughed out, his body aching.
“They might have killed you! People like you don’t last long in this town.” She said and took a few steps down the alleyway, and he followed after with the last of his energy. “Tortuga isn’t the place for you…” She said, hardly even looking for him.
“James Norrington.” He responded, though the quizzical look he received seemed to indicate she hadn’t been looking for a name.
“Yes, well, you should get away from this place as soon as you can.” She huffed, minding her step through all the broken bottles.
“I have to start again. From the bottom, work my way up. There’s nothing else I can do.”
“Nobody goes anywhere from starting at the bottom. Not unless you sell out everything you stand for. You especially, you’ll never make it anywhere.” She said with confidence, knowing this much of life. To her it was the truth, unintentionally cruel but the words cut him like a knife.
“It can be done.” He said stubbornly, refusing to believe the words. If one did not stick by their principles they would be nothing. How could he raise his head up high without his honour in tact?
“If that’s what you think then maybe you’re more at home here at Tortuga then I thought.”
Tortuga, the town of the scum, of the lawless, of pirates.
Tortuga, the town of the men with empty pockets and a dream, of honest man who had lost their way, of officers with blood on their face and dirt on their coat.
