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."
Thank you for giving me a chance to use this face
He spins around to look out at the ship with renewed interest. To his eyes, it's kind of ragged, dark-looking, and almost sinister ...
In other words, it is exactly everything Firo thinks a pirate ship should look like.
His eyes whip back to meet Jack's; leaning forward, his posture is almost pleading. "It's amazing! Can we go out and see it?"
omg firo you are adorable
"O' course, lad." He'd like nothing more to further show off his ship. "I've a boat on the shore over there, we can take that."
:D
He's already walking away to get ready to see this thing...the wrong way, though, so he does an about face when Jack points to the boat on shore. He nearly bounces the rest of the way there and waits for Jack beside it.
"...So how do we get this thing goin'?"
no subject
He's not far behind Firo, first snuffing out the fire that he'd made with a kick of sand and then gathering the day's catch of fish. Then Jack lays his hands on the boat's bow, nodding at him.
"Hop in, mate, and I'll push it out. There's some oars inside for us to use."
no subject
“Just to warn you, I’ve never rowed a boat or anything before.” He doesn’t sound apprehensive but excited. Maybe their last experience on the water didn’t go so well. So what? This is something new and exciting, like an adventure.
no subject
He settles into his seat, extending a hand out for an oar. "I'll take this side an' you take the other. Dip the oar in front of yourself then pull it towards yourself, like your pushin' the water away."
no subject
He's raring to go, so he stabs the oar into the water and gives it a few tugs as soon as Jack seems to be established. They probably do more to jostle the boat than anything, but the strokes will become more sure as he gets used to it.