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Who: Jack Sparrow and Will Turner
When: following the events of At World's End, questing for Aqua Vita
What: Jack's mode of transport keeps getting smaller and smaller until...
Where: So close yet so far from Florida
Jack Sparrow refused to give up, though he had to cling to a plank of what used to be his small boat and waves washed over his head. He kept on kicking his feet to swim towards Florida. Or he assumed he did, not knowing when he slipped into a sort of semi-conscious sleep and dreaming about surging forward. Ever forward on the quest for the Fountain of Youth, which was his for the taking. He still possessed the heart of the map. He still had his compass. That was what mattered beneath the sun beating down on him, with water water all around and everywhere and not a damned drop to drink....
"Vida, vida," Jack gasped breathlessly, staggering forward in his delusion. He sashay-swished through the hot forest. The trek yielded only the threat of dehydration but he could hear it, the water of life. There was the flow, the splash and cascade, tempting him to move toward it. He cursed his ragged breath, which had made him lose his direction. No longer could tilting his head this way or that bring the sound into focus; it seemed to come from all directions.
When: following the events of At World's End, questing for Aqua Vita
What: Jack's mode of transport keeps getting smaller and smaller until...
Where: So close yet so far from Florida
Jack Sparrow refused to give up, though he had to cling to a plank of what used to be his small boat and waves washed over his head. He kept on kicking his feet to swim towards Florida. Or he assumed he did, not knowing when he slipped into a sort of semi-conscious sleep and dreaming about surging forward. Ever forward on the quest for the Fountain of Youth, which was his for the taking. He still possessed the heart of the map. He still had his compass. That was what mattered beneath the sun beating down on him, with water water all around and everywhere and not a damned drop to drink....
"Vida, vida," Jack gasped breathlessly, staggering forward in his delusion. He sashay-swished through the hot forest. The trek yielded only the threat of dehydration but he could hear it, the water of life. There was the flow, the splash and cascade, tempting him to move toward it. He cursed his ragged breath, which had made him lose his direction. No longer could tilting his head this way or that bring the sound into focus; it seemed to come from all directions.
