as the wind fends off the waves

[drinkupmehearties]

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."

Comments

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland stops in the shelter of the trees and takes a second to take the scene in. Second time they've met in an arena this way. If it happens a third, he might begin to have some suspicions.

Nevermind. That doesn't matter now. He leaves the treeline and his steps on the sand are silent, and very careful. Very slow. When the only way to stay out of the thing's line of sight is to stay very close to it, Roland can afford nothing less. He tries to catch the captain's eyes, puts the tip of a finger over his own lips in hopes that'll keep him from doing anything loud, or sudden. A pipe with jagged ends and sprinkled with rust is gripped in Roland's hand, snatched from a building during the last time he fought one of these - not the best weapon, but by far preferable to the shillelagh that's twisted in one sleeve of Roland's makeshift purse.

If this dragon stays distracted enough not to look at Roland, but not so distracted that it decides to move, Roland will get a shot at this thing. But he has to get to a vulnerable point first, and the chances of the dragon staying this way for that long - well. What's a fight without risk?

1

[ruffntumblenut]

"Yeah so what?"

The face that greets him is doing a pretty good job of not looking afraid even though he has the high ground and she has no idea what sort of weapons he's sporting. The young girl instead is busy scooping water out of a shoddy looking makeshift boot she appears to have tied together herself.

"I'm armed too but I'm not interested." Which she hated to say because a fight was always fun but she had a goal in mind and it required she keep this pathetic tub floating for a little while longer.

"Don't suppose you've got any spare wood you can throw me?" She added with a tinge of hope. It was less embarrassing then asking him to save her from her own crap workmenship.

B

[foundafamily]

After their experience with the siren, Firo has probably proven that he's not the most adept survivor off of land. That doesn't keep him away from the water, especially when there's a very impressive looking ship anchored out there. It looks nothing like the ships in the harbor back home, and that makes Firo all the more drawn to it.

He's roaming the coast, simply casing the area, when he spots Jack out in the shallows. He perches on the edge of the surf and cups his hands around his mouth as he calls out, "The hell're you doin' there, pal?