Captain Jack Sparrow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
drinkupmehearties) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2015-10-27 08:20 pm
drinkupmehearties) wrote in thearena2015-10-27 08:20 pm
Entry tags:
as the wind fends off the waves
Who| Captain Jack Sparrow & OPEN (+ a prompt for Roland).
What| Jack discovers a familiar ship out at water.
Where| The water and the Black Pearl.
When| Sometime during Week 4.
Warnings/Notes| Will update if necessary.
The water is a welcome sight, as is the cool breeze that sweeps off it, and it doesn't take him long to spot the tall ship anchored far offshore. Having run into major trouble on the ship in the last Arena, Jack nearly dismisses it. Almost. But a second look, however, has his heart caught fast in his throat and his blood running cold. He'd recognize those sails anywhere.
The Pearl. His ship.
Moments later, he's in a small boat and paddling in the Pearl's direction. Most likely this is a foolish idea, most likely it's been set out as a trap of some kind, but the Pearl's presence is more dangerous and more enticing than any siren's song could ever be to him.
And damn it all, if there is any place he'd want to die, it'd be on that ship.
(A. Onboard.)
The first thing that Jack does after he's hauled himself up onto the ship is to scour the decks -- for other Tributes, for potential supplies, for any monstrous creatures the Gamemakers would've tried to hide in it. He finds that there's no cargo in the holds, no rum to be found, and his captain's cabin is noticeably barren of anything beyond the basics. Once he's sure that the ship is clear of threats, however, he's able to breathe easy and revel in the fact that his ship -- or, really, a damned good copy of it -- is here.
He spends what feels like ages on the upper deck of the Pearl, hand grazing across the rails, over the gloss of black paint (he realizes it's a fresh coat, that's not quite right), fingers curled around the ropes and rigging that tangle like a massive spiderweb up the length of the masts, palm feather-light over the spokes of the ship's wheel. He won't be able to sail it, of course; he has no crew, and the Gamemakers had practically hollowed out the ship until it'd become a mere ghost of itself. But he's content to stay.
At night, Jack shuts himself in the captain's cabin and sleeps light with a hand curled around his knife, swallowed down in the darkness. In the daytime, the pirate climbs the rigging to a higher perch and remains on lookout for anyone that thinks to cross over to his ship.
During one afternoon Jack has sprawled himself out on the main top -- the platform that sat snug around the main mast -- and is dozing, watching the clouds drift by, when the soft, tell-tale thud of a boat hitting the hull snaps his attention downward.
He shifts to peer over the edge of the platform, squinting, then calls out, "Oi, I'm armed!"
(B. Fishing.)
A few days in, his Sponsor-gifted supply of food runs low. He fashions a spear from rope, a stick, and the extra knife that he'd been given, and takes the small boat out to fish in the shallows near the shore, right as the sun hits its peak. He's learned to ignore the dragons that glide around in the sky much further off in the distance, not noticing that their flight patterns had become gradually more erratic and fervid.
He can be found not too far off the shore and waist deep in the water, spear in hand, focused on getting his next meal.
(C. Dragons! - Prompt for Roland.)
A small fire licks at the air on the shore, roasting his most recent catch as the water's waves hiss over the sand near him. He's gotten up from his perch near the fire, brow furrowed, shading his eyes to get a better look at the thickening smoke that curls up from somewhere off in the distance. Judging by location, it looks like the smoke is coming from the forest portion of the Arena -- possibly even near the mountains.
He doesn't even really have time to make a guess at what's happening over there; the leaves in the trees that line the beach shudder, ruffled by a sudden gust of wind that comes from massive wings, and then a heavy THUMP can be heard as the beast lands, skidding, in the sand. Jack startles, then stares, uncomprehending.
A dragon. It's a dragon. Shit.
The beast's scales are a deep royal blue, highlighted by stripes of yellow that trace lines along its jaw, down its long, snake-like neck that's craned to stare off over the trees. Then it swings its gaze around over to the fish cooking on a spit, to him, and a snarling rumble bubbles up in its throat. It bares its teeth.
Jack is frozen in place, unsure if running would spur the dragon into chasing him down. He slowly lifts his hand instead, fingers splayed, and grimaces. "... Nice ... beastie."
What| Jack discovers a familiar ship out at water.
Where| The water and the Black Pearl.
When| Sometime during Week 4.
Warnings/Notes| Will update if necessary.
The water is a welcome sight, as is the cool breeze that sweeps off it, and it doesn't take him long to spot the tall ship anchored far offshore. Having run into major trouble on the ship in the last Arena, Jack nearly dismisses it. Almost. But a second look, however, has his heart caught fast in his throat and his blood running cold. He'd recognize those sails anywhere.
The Pearl. His ship.
Moments later, he's in a small boat and paddling in the Pearl's direction. Most likely this is a foolish idea, most likely it's been set out as a trap of some kind, but the Pearl's presence is more dangerous and more enticing than any siren's song could ever be to him.
And damn it all, if there is any place he'd want to die, it'd be on that ship.
(A. Onboard.)
The first thing that Jack does after he's hauled himself up onto the ship is to scour the decks -- for other Tributes, for potential supplies, for any monstrous creatures the Gamemakers would've tried to hide in it. He finds that there's no cargo in the holds, no rum to be found, and his captain's cabin is noticeably barren of anything beyond the basics. Once he's sure that the ship is clear of threats, however, he's able to breathe easy and revel in the fact that his ship -- or, really, a damned good copy of it -- is here.
He spends what feels like ages on the upper deck of the Pearl, hand grazing across the rails, over the gloss of black paint (he realizes it's a fresh coat, that's not quite right), fingers curled around the ropes and rigging that tangle like a massive spiderweb up the length of the masts, palm feather-light over the spokes of the ship's wheel. He won't be able to sail it, of course; he has no crew, and the Gamemakers had practically hollowed out the ship until it'd become a mere ghost of itself. But he's content to stay.
At night, Jack shuts himself in the captain's cabin and sleeps light with a hand curled around his knife, swallowed down in the darkness. In the daytime, the pirate climbs the rigging to a higher perch and remains on lookout for anyone that thinks to cross over to his ship.
During one afternoon Jack has sprawled himself out on the main top -- the platform that sat snug around the main mast -- and is dozing, watching the clouds drift by, when the soft, tell-tale thud of a boat hitting the hull snaps his attention downward.
He shifts to peer over the edge of the platform, squinting, then calls out, "Oi, I'm armed!"
(B. Fishing.)
A few days in, his Sponsor-gifted supply of food runs low. He fashions a spear from rope, a stick, and the extra knife that he'd been given, and takes the small boat out to fish in the shallows near the shore, right as the sun hits its peak. He's learned to ignore the dragons that glide around in the sky much further off in the distance, not noticing that their flight patterns had become gradually more erratic and fervid.
He can be found not too far off the shore and waist deep in the water, spear in hand, focused on getting his next meal.
(C. Dragons! - Prompt for Roland.)
A small fire licks at the air on the shore, roasting his most recent catch as the water's waves hiss over the sand near him. He's gotten up from his perch near the fire, brow furrowed, shading his eyes to get a better look at the thickening smoke that curls up from somewhere off in the distance. Judging by location, it looks like the smoke is coming from the forest portion of the Arena -- possibly even near the mountains.
He doesn't even really have time to make a guess at what's happening over there; the leaves in the trees that line the beach shudder, ruffled by a sudden gust of wind that comes from massive wings, and then a heavy THUMP can be heard as the beast lands, skidding, in the sand. Jack startles, then stares, uncomprehending.
A dragon. It's a dragon. Shit.
The beast's scales are a deep royal blue, highlighted by stripes of yellow that trace lines along its jaw, down its long, snake-like neck that's craned to stare off over the trees. Then it swings its gaze around over to the fish cooking on a spit, to him, and a snarling rumble bubbles up in its throat. It bares its teeth.
Jack is frozen in place, unsure if running would spur the dragon into chasing him down. He slowly lifts his hand instead, fingers splayed, and grimaces. "... Nice ... beastie."
no subject
"Wow!" He sold it really well. She was a bit jealous now to see a ship like this.
"All the ships back home are much lower to the water. And like...long and not so wide." She explained gesturing with her hands. "This is more like Trader Johan's ship...except bigger...way bigger." She craned her neck to see to the top of the mast before bringing it back down to grin at Jack.
"Thanks for helping me out Captain."
no subject
"Aye, o' course." He lays a hand on the smooth rail, letting his eyes briefly follow hers upwards to one of the masts that looms overhead. There's no breeze or wind to speak of, so even though the tattered black sails were fully unfurled as if the ship were ready to make way, the cloth sags limply. "Big, aye, there's reason for that. She's built to travel back and forth over vast seas without much difficulty, and to carry cargo." His gaze returns to her. "Where was home for you, lass?"
no subject
As for where she comes from she looks proud "The Isle of Berk, It's twelve days north of Hopeless, and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death. It's located solidly on the Meridian of Misery." Proud of such a terrible sounding location.
"The place is full of dragons, and for the longest time we fought them. Generations of vikings grew up battling them and then we found out it's way more fun to train them and ride them and blow stuff up with them!"
no subject
Then she rattles off those names and his brow slowly begins to crease, expression tinged with a hint of amusement. "Sounds like a hopelessly dreadful place. The dragons allowed the lot of you to ride them without -- " A bit of hand-waving from him, " -- devouring everyone in sight?"
no subject
"They used to wreck out homes all the time. Fly in, steal our food, burn down our houses. But we weren't about to let them win! So we kept rebuilding and fighting until someone finally figured out how to get them to work with us. Turns out they were stealing our food to feed to this dragon the size of a mountain! So we fought that dragon and killed it! And now the other dragons are our friends...most of them."
Of course she wasn't giving Hiccup the credit he deserved, but he'd had more then his share over the years.
no subject
"You mustn't be too overly afraid of the ones flying about here, then, I wager."
no subject
Just the mention of her long lost dragon was enough to put some rose in her cheeks.
no subject
He nods towards her boat, then. "How 'bout we set to fixing that. Do you have anything to trade for the wood?"
no subject
"Yeah I've got erm..." She had to dig around in a bundle she had strapped to her back to see just what she was willing to part with.
"Food, Water or first aid. Can't give up the bullets or guns...oh and I've got these things." She held up a shiny metal star.
"I think you're supposed to throw em."