A Troubled Spirit Continues

[Sylvia Phoenix]

Sylvia watched Desmond float away, she wasn't prepared for the tilting of the ship that pressed her face down against the bars. Now Desmond was below her, against the far wall, and she could see blood. Lots of it. Even in the red water, the blood looked black. Her eyes widened with a real sense of horror and she tried to shout something, but that only served to expel most of the air she had left in her lungs. She reached her arm out through the bars as if to grab him, but he was much too far. It was out of her hands, Sylvia could only watch as Desmond appeared to give up, and her heart sank. But then he seemed to be dragging himself up the stairs. As her vision grew darker, Sylv felt desperation as she helplessly watched him try to get free of the water. Her lungs felt on fire, as if they would burst. When Des finally managed to drag himself through the hatch, that was good enough. Sylvia closed her eyes and let instinct take over as she gasped desperately for one last breath and her lungs found only water.

Up in the cargo bay, Minta was cowering in a separate chamber from where Desmond was, hiding behind a large stack of stolen crates labeled "Fine China." The water was about six inches deep up here, so she knew there was not a pocket of air to be found in the brig. Despite Sylvia's wayward occupation, the thought made Minta feel physically sick.

Upon hearing a strange, hoarse gasping noise in the next room, Minta instinctively grabbed James's sleeve. "There's someone out there," she whispered, not seeing Desmond's prostrate form. For all she knew it could be another wicked crewman searching for them.

[Captain Jack]

James carefully peeked around the crates, looking for crewman or possibly even Blackbeard himself. They had heard someone making a lot of a noise moments ago and he had figured just to stay where they were. But James did not see any crewman at all. So what was the coughing he and Minta had heard? He strained his eyes a little harder and realized where water was bubbling by the stairs that led down to the brig laid a body a strewn out body.

"Desmond?" he muttered to himself. Slowly, he crouched up and went over to the body laying there only to confirm what he thought he had saw. "Goodlord," as he looked over Desmond's body with red staining his clothing.

James bent over and picked up Desmond's with slight struggle and brought him to the "Fine China" crates. "Des? Des? Are you here?" he asked while giving his cheeks a slap. No response. James laid his head to Des's chest for a long while. A breath. He does live. Soon James quickly broke some crates to try and make a bed of some sort. He then proceeded to take Desmond's shirt off and then his own so he could attempt to clean the wounds. "This is pretty bad," he said to no one in particular.

[Sylvia Phoenix]

Up above, as the hurricane raged, Blackbeard stood stoically at the wheel, struggling to keep the Queen Anne's Revenge from falling prey to the monster waves, his crew swarming about. No one was looking overboard. Even if they had, none could have spotted the odd creature swimming through the waves as if the chaotic sea were a mere puddle. Indeed the water she swam through seemed to calm, as if afraid of her. The creature came up beside the hull of the ship, hovering in place in a bizarrely still spot of water. She knew exactly what she was looking for.

Deep in the belly of the ship, in water that now stood still with a few peaceful bubbles floating through, Sylvia was locked in her watery grave. Her arms still laced through the bars, she hung there lifelessly, feet floating above the floor, completely still except for her hair, drifting slowly around her face. Green eyes were halfway open but no flicker of life remained. They saw only nothingness.
Then.. the blackness seemed to fade at the corners, as if light were creeping its way into her empty vision. Then, a blur of color. An image came into focus... the brig, the last sight she had seen in this world. It didn't feel at all real or natural. She knew her heart was no longer beating, and she could not move her limbs.
As her mind began to clear, it occurred to Sylvia that the light was no longer red. An unworldly green glow emanated from something behind her. It was beautiful, but what on earth was it?
Slowly, by an invisible force, she started to move away from the bars. Her arms pulled out of the grate and fell limp as she drifted in the water. It felt bizarre to see through her own eyes and yet unable to move her body. It felt... like nothing at all. Even her thoughts were only impulses. She had no emotions whatsoever. Maybe this was all a dream, the halfway point between life and wherever she was going next... not Davy Jones' locker she hoped. She had heard stories from a reliable source.

The unseen force turned her to face the cell's small window. Something outside was glowing with that preternatural green light. Drifting toward it, the wall separating Sylvia from the light seemed to disappear, yet she paid that no mind. Much like the way that strange dreams don't seem odd until one wakes up. They were surrounded by nothing but water, endless, clear, unimaginably deep. The light surrounded a long, lithe figure that floated only a few feet from Sylvia's body.

Suddenly, the odd peace of the moment was gone as Sylvia's body gave a violent jerk. The creature gestured only slightly with a hand, and Sylvia could physically feel every drop of water filling her lungs. And it was moving out and being replaced with air. Clean, breathable, blessed oxygen. Physical sensation returned like a strong electric shock. The whole illusion disappeared, and Sylvia lost consciousness again, though this time it was different from the death she had experienced only minutes before. She simply... faded out, and remembered no more.


***********************************


Araminta stared at the extent of Desmond's injuries. Everything was red. Spattered generously down his chin and chest from where he had choked it up. Oozing at an alarming rate from an enormous gash in his shoulder. She'd never seen so much blood.
"What happened down there?" she wondered. She had no medical experience, had never seen a severe injury. Yet somehow she didn't feel queasy. In fact, a foreign sense of determination rose up inside her, an instinctive sense of what actions to take. "Turn him on his side, or the water will stay in his lungs," she instructed James.

With Des on his side, Minta could see the full ugliness of his torn open flesh. "He's bleeding to death. There's no time to waste. Wad up your shirt and hold it over the wound. That's it. Press as hard as you can." Her eyes darted around the room. They fell upon a crate of rum bottles, and she was inspired. She got to her feet and sloshed over to the rum. Tucking a bottle under her arm, she pulled up the hem of her dress. Minta irreverently tore it, unraveling the fine thread. She set about finding a needle. What could she possibly use? Rummaging through boxes, she sighed with frustration until she came across a small jewelry box. It was hers! Stolen in the raid. She opened the little silver box and removed a hatpin. Yanking the jewel off the end, the sharp pin would suffice perfectly.

Returning to Desmond's side, she knelt down and soaked the pin and thread with rum, then poured some on the wound to sterilize it. "Be glad he's not awake or this would be unbearable," she remarked to James as she got to work putting Des back together. The gash was so deep, stitching the skin wouldn't be enough. For all her faults, Minta did have a strong stomach. She reached her fingers into the gash and sewed together the cut muscle, a gruesome task but she never flinched. Then she stitched together the ragged skin. When done, Minta's hands were covered in blood. As she vigorously washed it off in the water, she observed her work. It wasn't pretty, the jagged line of blue stitches on Desmond's shoulder, but it was good enough.
"At least he isn't bleeding anymore," she remarked to James.

[Captain Jack]

Birds chirped overhead as a warm comforting breeze softly gusted through the air. The mighty oaks added to the chorus of birds by gently rustling their leaves and the tall willows shimmered with beauty. It was warm, the sun was bright, and white cauliflower clouds passed by occasionally offering a momentary break from the sun. The grass was green and lush, the air smell smelled of hydrangeas, lilacs and countless wild flowers, it was a sweet smell. Desmond opened his eyes and looked around him for what seemed like the first time but it also felt as if he knew everything about his surroundings. He wasn't particularly worried, he felt safe. Resting under an oak tree he looked to his right where a stone cottage with a thatched roof sat. There was smoke drifting out of the chimney, someone must be cooking. More trees engulfed the side of the cottage but that was alright, it provided shade on a hotter days. Desmond stretched his arms and raised himself from the ground. He brushed his hands through his thick hair feeling relieved from his nap and felt at peace. Everything felt perfect.

A playful scream soared through the air and Desmond glanced to his right knowing to look for the back door of the cottage. He waited and soon enough two children galloped through the door on their toy horses. "Daddy!" shouted the little girl who was aged only about three. She turned her horse and ran to Desmond as fast as she could but her brother, who was age five, strode past her with his longer legs. "Hey!" she complained but the boy just turned his head and provided her with a grin. His excitement of winning was cut short though as he lost his footing and tumbled forward to the ground, horse and all. The girl shrieked with laughter and trotted to Desmond, dropped her horse and hugged his leg. Des chuckled to himself when he could see the boy was alright and picked up his little girl. Her long hair tossed in the wind as she glowed at him, she was beautiful, just like her mother. The boy got up, and sulked over to Desmond. "Now don't act like that, no one will want to play with you if you act like a poor sport." Des spoke to his boy in a fatherly manner.

"Darling!" called a woman's voice from the cottage. Desmond's ears instantly heard the term of endearment and set down his little girl so he could walk freely toward the voice. Just before he reached the cottage itself a woman appeared out of the back door and just as he was about to greet her he stopped in his tracks with a sense of confusing and worry. He could not see her...she was blank. She was there but not at the same time. "Darling?" she said again sensing a change in his emotion. "What's wrong? You look confused." But Desmond couldn't respond to her, something seemed out of place. Why couldn't he see? He rubbed his eyes but the woman before only remained blurry. "I can't...see..." he blubbered and turned around to see his children that were crystal clear a moment ago but he now realized he couldn't recall a single detail to you if asked. He scanned the area, they were no longer there. The trees faded away, the birds stopped singing and the sun was gone. Everything went grey and cold and Desmond felt as if he were floating away...but not to death. This was something else, however, he wasn't sure he was ready to greet this change. An ache in shoulder caught his attention, what was going on?

****************************************

James placed his left hand on Desmond's hips and the other near his shoulder to help keep steady for Minta. James was used to blood and gore from his military days so this hardly phased him, but he was impressed with how Minta dealt with it. She just reached into the gaping wound and went about sewing it up. When all was said and done James surveyed her work and said "As long it stays shut and isn't bleeding I think it looks terrific. You would have made an excellent battle surgeon,"

[Sylvia Phoenix]

"Thanks..."
Araminta trailed off, slightly dazed. She sat heavily down on a huge coil of rope and rested her arms on her knees, so mentally and physically exhausted that the very weight of her body felt burdensome. The events of the last two hours felt as if they had lasted a lifetime. Minta felt detached, barely able to comprehend that this was all really happening. In her mind she went back to the moment, months earlier, when her parents had argued over whether it was wise to allow Minta to go to sea with her father. She had begged to be allowed to go, just this once, until her mother relented. Now here she was, a captive in the belly of Blackbeard's ship, soaked to the skin with seawater and blood, her dress so badly torn that her legs were exposed, too dazed to care in the least about trying to cover them up. Her father was now most likely dead.

She managed a weak laugh at the irony of the whole situation. It turned into a little sob of despair.

The ship no longer seemed to be violently tossing. Perhaps they'd sailed through the worst of it. By now the only sounds in the dim room were the creaking of the ship, the gently sloshing water, and the breathing of Minta and her companions, Desmond's breath sounding more ragged and raspy than the others. He would probably regain consciousness soon, and be able to share what had transpired. Araminta thought she heard him stir, and looked over to where he seemed to be resting uneasily.
"I wonder what he's dreaming about," she mused aloud.
Suddenly a bubbling noise came from the next room. Startled, Minta peeked around the corner of the door. Something large floated out of the open trapdoor from the submerged brig below, and drifted toward her. Minta shrieked and jumped to her feet. It was the wide-eyed, waterlogged corpse of the gruesome pirate whom James and Desmond had knocked unconscious.
Araminta's stomach turned as she backed away from the body.
"I suppose... Sylvia's still down there... like that."

[Captain Jack]

(where the hell did Jack end up?)


"Best not to linger on that thought," James replied to Minta casually. He hoisted himself up from stooping next to Desmond and walked over to the floating body. Closing the dead man's eyes James searched him only to discover no concealed weapons of any kind. "Nothing of use on him. We should try to figure a way off this ship" he turned back to Minta. The task at hand seemed rather hopeless, they had one unconscious man to carry and Jack was missing.

While James stood there, staring at the ground, quite apparent he was in deep thought, Desmond started to groan in pain. "Sylvia..." he murmured quietly at first but then his muscles began to tense up, sweat dripped down from his forehead as his face grimaced. Suddenly, Desmond shot upward and bellowed out from the pain in his shoulder. James rushed over and tried to cover his mouth. "They'll hear you!" he shouted but Desmond did not hear and only struggled again being restrained. "Sylvia!" he cried. Blood oozed through the stitches and down his back. "Des, you need to stop straining!" James urged still trying to restrain his friend. Desmond slumped forward, releasing his muscles from being as taught as a string and began to weep uncontrollably. He murmured more words about Sylvia and something else about kids, trees but nothing was comprehend able.

"Time to go!" Jack's voice said urgently and appeared from the darkness looking extremely frantic. Not far off more voices could be heard in a gruffer tone. "What did you do?!" James shouted and swooped weeping Desmond into his arms. Jack just ran past to the far side of the room, throwing boxes to and fro. A pistol appeared in his hand, a slight click and the gun went off followed by an explosion and a wave of gushing water.....

[Sylvia Phoenix]

(oh gawd first I was crying and then I started laughing so hard because that is JUST like Jack!

I'm gonna take this to a new thread in the San Clemente board and we can get things moving in the right direction ;D)