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Tweak says, "MASTER XEHANORT!"

Vas Captio Mods (vas_captio_mod) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-08 15:57:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 10, jack sparrow, jean tannen, l lawliet, location: cemetery, location: church, open, tinker bell

Day 10: Church/Cemetery - 1:15pm
Who: OTA
What: Seven point five
When: 1:15pm - 5:00pm
Where: Church/Cemetery
Rating: TBA
Status: Active

The sun was shining high in the sky and a gentle breeze stroked the leaves of the trees, making them, along with the severed stub of rope on the clock face from the day previous sway lazily. It was quiet. Perhaps it was too quiet, for the lack of birds chirping or insects buzzing.

All in all, the day was one of the most pleasant as of yet for the bulk of the involuntary residents of Vas Captio, save, of course, the heat. Maybe it was a bit too hot to be entirely comfortable.

It started small, as most things do. The Bibles and hymnals in the holders on the backs of the pews jiggled anxiously in the spot and some of the residents' personal belongings slid off their respective pews and onto the floor. This was brief, although it was only a preview of what was to come less than a moment after everything settled again.

The church, already leaning from age and warped wood, shook with such force when the earthquake hit that the stained glass windows shattered to pieces almost instantaneously. For the lack of stability of the building as it stood, it took no longer than ten seconds for the ceiling to collapse inward completely. Pews split in two, the alter convulsed dangerously in place before toppling into the baptismal, which then fell into a pew, flames still licking the air from the neglected fire built in it as it went.

The walls of the church caved in the direction of the lean, some of the wood splintering and falling in the direction of the cemetery, littering the area even moreso than it already was from the fallen trees and broken headstones. The opposite wall fell into the rubble that was left of the church itself.

As the quake settled, the debris of the building as it had been caught in the fire from the baptismal, crackling angrily and licking at the air of the outdoors for the lack of an actual building remaining there. And then, it was over, save the flames slowly eating away the mess left behind.

Vas Captio was still, again, and silent once more.

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Jack Sparrow & Tinker Bell

jack_and_rum
2009-06-10 11:04 pm UTC (link)

Jack's eyes shot wide when the little woman cried out. He dropped the rock suddenly and it rolled toward her, narrowly missing her again. Which he was grateful for because he hadn't meant to hurt her by removing or replacing the rock in any way, shape, or form. His lips twisted into a grimace and he watched her curiously with a look of empathy on his face for the pain she seemed to be feeling.

Closing one eye, Jack could just make out that the tiny woman was crying and that made him feel horrible. He wished his bottle of rum hadn't smashed when the ground had heaved. He could have offered her something to ease the pain. He'd taken rum as a pain remedy a thousand times. And a million times more just for fun.

He looked over to the broken remnants to the bottle and saw that there was a small pool of the liquid settling into the dirt. If he was quick he could capture some in the palm of his hand before it seeped into the the muck.

Wait! Was she laughing? Jack recoiled, his lip curling even further into a grimace of distaste. Nothing in pain would laugh, would it? This must be black magic. There must be some revenge-seeking priestess about. Or was he overreacting. He couldn't tell. His eyes flicked over to the disappearing rum, then back to the tiny woman.

"I don't know what's bleeding. Yer too tiny to tell," he said truthfully. He couldn't see just what part of her was bleeding. Instead, with a careful look at her then at the rum, he captured some of the liquor on a shard of the bottle as fast as he could. "Are you going to try to kill me?" he whispered loudly again?

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Jack Sparrow & Tinker Bell

tink_says
2009-06-10 11:22 pm UTC (link)

The idea of Tink as a bit of black magic was, frankly, absurd. Sure, she had a temper at times, and she could be annoying as all getout, but she wasn't evil in any meaning of the word. After all, evil things didn't feel horrible when they were scolded. Evil things didn't regret wishing that everyone would die. Evil things didn't want to just be loved and make nice nice with people and go on adventures. Evil things didn't want to meet Jenny to see if she was, really, that bad in person.

She watched him look at the rum, and she got the sinking suspicion that he was going to leave. In her hour of pain, she was still convinced that nobody wanted to be around her, nobody wanted to help her, nobody noticed her. She breathed awkwardly, forcing her arm to lift. It was bent at an awkward angle at the elbow. "Don't...go..." she whispered, pleading with the little strength that she had.

Her eye wandered around. The sky looked different today, like something big was happening. The sky could tell an awful lot of stories. She remembered, fondly, the days when she could fly to anywhere in the entire world and beyond. She missed the Neverland, her home, and she missed Peter. She missed being able to pretend that she wasn't alone.

"Do you not know...a lot of words either?" she asked when he stated that he didn't know what bleeding was. When he called her tiny, Tink tried to get upset, but pain was the major sensation that she was feeling, and she couldn't get riled up enough to feel real anger. "I'm... not... ti..." she coughed, blood spattering her pale skin.

Kill him? How was she going to kill him if "I can't move," she hissed out with a breath, her blue eye locking on him. "I've...never... killed. Not intentionally. The Martha..." Her voice trailed off, and she cried harder, soundlessly. Would she be seeing the Martha again soon?

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Jack Sparrow & Tinker Bell

jack_and_rum
2009-06-10 11:35 pm UTC (link)

He wasn't going anywhere. What did she mean? Jack canted his head, dreadlocked hair shifting and spilling down onto the dirt as he did. "No, I'm ashore. No ships to leave in," he answered.

Oh that did not look good at all. When she coughed and blood spurted from her mouth, Jack instinctively moved his face away but he managed to get a little spattered with blood. It was probably a good thing that he didn't come from a time where blood-borne diseases were well-known an feared. Else he might have gotten to his feet and run away hollering.

Instead, Jack lifted the glass shard with the rum in it and patted his pinkie into the liquid. Carefully he held it above Tink's mouth, the tension of the liquid making it bow out toward her lips but not fall. Not yet. She had the choice of drinking. He knew he would in her place.

"Tis rum. Will ease yer pain until I can find a witch doctor or sommat," he said and watched her carefully to see if she would take the tiny bit of rum. He wasn't sure she could handle it if she was coughing blood but she'd know what she could take, right?

The whole thing was distasteful to him. He didn't know what to do with all of this and his eye was throbbing. He'd had enough fist fights in taverns to know it was growing puffy and black. He hoped he didn't frighten his little companion. Not that he could help it if he did.

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Jack Sparrow & Tinker Bell

tink_says
2009-06-10 11:46 pm UTC (link)

Ashore? He really was a pirate, then! Oh, the irony. Peter would absolutely crow if he knew that a pirate was keeping her company while she was "bleeding and dying." She couldn't help but attempt another little smile, and the result was sad. It was excellent that she didn't have a mirror.

It was probably also excellent for Jack that Tink was neither human nor a whore, nor did she come from a time when blood-borne diseases were well-known, either. The early 1900s were not well known for being sanitary. Also, it was probable that humans and fairies could not catch the same kinds of illnesses. After all, smaller bodies meant smaller germs, right?

"Water?" she whispered, leaning up before he'd given his explanation. Rum was not a word that she knew, nor did she know pain, but she wasn't wholly stupid. Context clues led her to believe that the strange emotion she was experiencing was pain. And easing it sounded like an excellent idea. "Rum...magic water. Yes." She sat up feebly, her broken wings hanging from her back, and she took the tiny drop from his finger. Unable to hold the position, she flopped back into the rubble. At least, it seemed, her spine wasn't broken and she wasn't paralyzed.

Her head began to swim almost instantly, for while it seemed like a small drop, it was about the size of half of a fairy-sized mug of rum. Eyes widening, she wanted to cough as it went down, but it was somehow soothing to her throat. Her eye half closed, and she laid back a bit.

"Somebunny punched you," she murmured, motioning to his swelling eye with her fingers. She'd only seen the Lost Boys get injuries like that when they punched each other in the face. "You should find 'im and punch 'im back. S'what I always tell the Lost Boys." She wasn't frightened by big people, nor was she frightened by pirates. Aside from the being hit by a rock part, this was actually a most excellent adventure. She knew, she just knew, that there'd be familiar sights for her somewhere around here.

"I've been on a ship," she said. "I had to ride in the back 'cause the tail light was out." She coughed, watching him carefully. Why not story time? There was nothing better to do since she couldn't help him with a witch doctor, whatever that was, or a sommat.

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Jack Sparrow & Tinker Bell

jack_and_rum
2009-06-12 06:45 pm UTC (link)

"Yes," he said with a strange expression. "Magic water. There's a good girl."

Jack almost smiled as she drank the rum from his finger. It took all his control not to yank his hand back. He was afraid she would bite his pinkie and maybe he'd have to shake her off like a nasty little bug. Sure, she was a pretty little thing. Even he couldn't doubt that, but he was sincerely sure she was about to turn into a dark and evil angry woman who would take him down to the depths of hell. This place just kept turning out more and more evidence of voodoo and dark magics. Mystical things that Jack knew full well not to mess with.

When she flopped onto the dirt again he winced sympathetically. "I'm going to have to pick you up now. To take you to a doctor," he said. He made a curious face again, closing an eye to see her better and assess what might have happened to her when the rock hit her. He couldn't imagine what that must have felt like for her. She was so little.

"Must've been old Will Turner what punched me in the eye," he answered with a chuckle. "He knows I kissed his girl before she left me to rot at the bottom of the sea in the belly of a kracken. He's not here but when I'm out of this place I will give him what for."

He reached out and gingerly touched her tiny arm with one finger. He didn't want to just pick her up, he was going to offer his palm for her to crawl into if she could. That way he didn't hurt her more. Smiling he made conversation with her since she seemed to want to bend his ear in spite of having coughed up blood. "Have you now? What was her name?" he asked.

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Jack Sparrow & Tinker Bell

tink_says
2009-06-19 12:40 am UTC (link)

"Yay!" she giggled, punchdrunk from the little drop of rum that he'd given her. It had gone straight to her head, and then it had gone to everywhere else in her little body. She was something like a limp noodle, and nothing really seemed to hurt. Fortunately, she had enough good sense to just go with that weird, tired, floppy feeling. Otherwise, if she'd been feeling more headstrong, she probably would have done her best to jump to her feet and insist that she could walk. "Pick me up! Pick me up! I'm a fairy, an' fairies fly, but I ain' flyin'. I dun belong on ground." She shook her head, wincing slightly.

Voodoo and dark magic would have sounded fun to Tink, but if he'd mentioned it (probably when she was sober), she would have told him, after an explanation of the concepts, that that sounded like something that Indians did, not fairies. Some fairies were magic, but she was not so much. She was just really good at fixing pots, which she had always thought was super lame. That was why she'd decided to take on Peter as her human and become an adventurer. But Peter had always insisted that he was not her human. She was a girl, after all, and boy humans could not stand the impropriety of the idea of having a girl fairy.

"You shouldda spit on 'im," she remarked offhand. She meant Will Turner. Punching people wasn't nice, and the only solutions to that issue were more punching or some spitting. "Righ' in 'is eye. Wha's a kracken? Does it li' eatin' pirates?"

Her whole body felt horrible. She wasn't even sure what was wrong. It was probably, for a modern human, the equivalent of being hit by a van. Maybe something a little bit bigger. Fortunately, she was flexible and carefree. If she had been tense or stiff, she probably wouldn't have made it. But there were definitely ribs that were not where they were supposed to be, the entire area of her hips hurt, and her wings were hanging at all odd angles. From there, she could not tell what else was wrong with her. All she knew was that was the epicenter of her pain.

Looking at his hand, she could not believe the indignity of it all. He wanted her to crawl onto his hand? She tried to move, to shift, to sit up, but she wasn't going anywhere. Pain radiated out from her hips and lower back. Her legs from the knees down were putting in the effort, but the core of her wasn't moving. Her torso had taken most of the force from the blow. "Tinker Bell no go," she giggled out, flopping back. "Ow."

Back to pirate talk. That was much better than trying to move. She coughed a little more because she tried to take too deep a breath. "Her name wa' tha Wendy, an' I hate 'er. Bu' tha ship was call tha Jolly Roger. Wha's yer ship, Mista Pirate?"

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Jack Sparrow & Tinker Bell

jack_and_rum
2009-06-23 02:05 pm UTC (link)

Jack watched the little winged woman's eyes seem to swim with the rum she'd drunk and he wondered if his tiny bit hadn't been a great lot to her. Well there was nothing for it now. Gingerly, his fingers splayed slightly as though he might need them for flight at any moment himself, he worked his hands beneath her and scooped her into his palm. He held her between both hands as gently as he could and brought her up closer to eye level.

Eyeing her, his darkly lined eyes squinted. His eyebrows took on a life of their own it seemed with a hundred small variations of a quizzical expression accompanied by quiet hmming sounds as he inspected her from every angle. It was an outlandishly over the top display of paying too much attention to detail with his eyes half crossed part of the time. One of his favorite things to throw people off the idea that he might be as smart as he actually was. Who took a cross-eyed man making faces seriously?

He wondered how she had the energy to keep talking. His brows furrowed almost comically then and he said, "The kracken is an almighty beastie what lives under the sea. It comes to the call of Davy Jones and it can destroy ships with a single grip of its massive jaws. Took me down t'the depths and I ended up here instead of hell. Or maybe this is hell." He glanced around as if checking to see if demons were afoot.

Jack sighed as she coughed again and decided they'd better get moving. "I should really take you to a doctor. Any chance of you knowing the way to said doctor?" He expected she'd been there longer than he had since he hadn't seen her in the motley crew he'd been dumped in a pile with on first arrival. He hoped she had some idea where to go as he began walking away from the burning, collapsed barn, wobbling some as an aftershock set him off balance a bit between headstones.

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