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PoTC Tertiary Character Ficathon Response
Fic Title: Beyond This World
Rating: probably PG-13
Disclaimer: They're not mine, no matter how much I dream that they are at night.
Summary: The final battle of two great foes who have more in common than most imagine.
REQUESTOR: meletor_et_al
2) Jack the Monkey/Mr. Cotton's Parrot, ...probably not graphic, as that
would be entirely difficult and borderline squicky, but hey, if inspiration
hits, run with it and never look back!
Author's note: I hope this will please you. It's probably not exactly what you expected, but... I hope you'll like it all the same!
Beyond This World
It had been long coming. Ten years. Ten years had the bloody thing eluded them all, ten years had it roamed free and wrecked chaos where it passed. Only three years since it had killed Him, Him that had been his life. Many a man did not deem high the love a pet bore his master, or deemed it stupid, but the parrot knew better. The love he had borne Him was not foolish, nor blind. He well knew why He had taken him on; He had needed a voice. The parrot had taken up the job with fervour, though his words seemed to puzzle the other men at first. Fools that they were, to not understand him. His master might not have had a tongue, but being unable to speak only taught Him to listen. His master understood him. And his master had been taken away from him by that lowly, good-for-nothing excuse for a monkey, three years gone now.
Jack, they said it was called. It had got a name when the parrot had always had to go without, since He was scarcely able to give him one and the bird would not have let anyone else name him. The injustice of it still rankled in his chest as he watched the damned monkey climb up the stony walls, desperate for a way out.
The parrot looked at the Aztec chest as the one that liked to talk with the sea, Pearl’s beloved, closed it with a loud thunk. The curse was lifted, the monkey liable to die again. The men were all shouting, brandishing swords and pistols, some of them even firing at it. There were not many of them, all the others still on Pearl outside, but they made such a racket as would have sent him flying away in distaste if he had not been so intent on his revenge.
The monkey shrieked in defiance and the parrot took his flight. In his mind he called forth His image, the day He had bought the bird off in that market with the man Gibbs by his side, and the man Gibbs’ scepticism even as he explained to the parrot what was expected of him. The parrot had acquiesced, Wind in the sails, wind in the sails, and the man Gibbs had looked forlorn and comforted in his doubts, but He had shaken his head strongly, resting a protective hand over his feathers. The man Gibbs had relented and let Him do as He pleased, and keep the bloody bird if that be what ye want. And He and the parrot had shared their first look, the look that said that they understood each other, no matter that the rest of the world did not.
He flew as he had never flown before, powerful strokes of his wings that made him feel like much more than the simple parrot he was, heedless of the shots that gradually died down as he got closer to his target. The monkey spotted him and shrieked yet again, looking madly about for a way out, but the closest was still a good fifty feet up and he would not get there in time, oh no, the parrot would see to that.
He soared up through the air and he could imagine his beak shining as beams of light fell on it, his colourful feathers smoothed back as the wind rushed through his spread wings, there was but one goal now as he yelled out His name, Cotton, Cotton: close his beak around that hairy little neck, shred that skin with his sharp claws, tear it all out and end that monstrosity’s life.
For the love of Him.
***
Jack climbed easily up the stone walls of the cave, hands and feet grasping at the asperities of the rock, scrambling higher, always higher. Beams of light fell into the cave through holes at the top and he meant to reach them and vanish into the jungle outside. The shots did not faze him, there had been few men that would scare him and those were not the sort. Weaklings, when Jack had sailed with the hardest, strongest of them all. When Jack had served the One that was greater than all the others.
He remembered the smile that bared yellow teeth in the most frightening of ways and snarled at no one in particular as still higher up he climbed. Jack's namesake, yes, he was one of the few that the monkey could fear, and he was the one who had taken it all away from him, with the blessing of that bloody ship that He had also loved. But His love of her had been selfish and brutal, while Pearl loved the monkey's namesake back with all of herself, sails and hull and the space in between too, it had all longed for Jack-the-man. He had tried to let Him know, but His understanding of the monkey did not go that far.
How happy she had been, when her precious Jack-the-man was returned to her. Jack hadn’t been there to see it, making his way as he was from the Isla de Muerta to the nearest inhabited shore, walking the depths of the ocean, but she had been reeking of satisfaction when he next spotted them, a good ten years ago. Ten years since His greatness had gone out of the world, snuffed out as easily as the flame of a candle, though He had burned stronger, brighter and longer than any other fire in the whole damned world. But none of them would see it.
Sometimes he thought his namesake had seen it. Jack-the-man always stood apart from other such creatures, not unlike He had. But Jack-the-man was weak too, that was how and why he had lost Pearl, and Pearl had lost him. It still made no sense to Jack that Jack-the-man could have killed Him, but at the very same time he was bound to acknowledge that no one else should have.
He looked down when the shots stopped ringing in his ears, spotted the bloody bird flying towards him. Of course. He had spent those ten years taking revenge as he could on all those who walked in the shadow of Jack-the-man and that bird had taken a personal dislike to Jack after the monkey slit his master’s throat. The fool did not have the leisure to cry out an inarticulate warning to the crew, but the bird raised a ruckus and left a few very impressive claw marks down Jack’s ribs. He hadn’t cared, the curse had protected him. The blood dripping from his arm reminded him painfully that he had no such protection now.
He shrieked at the bird, assessed his chances of reaching an exit in time. They were null. He had learned that much from knowing Him, to be realistic, to never trust a fool’s hope. Jack knew that his time had come. He grinned ferociously, then pushed off the wall to collide harshly with the approaching bird.
They fell through the hair, a tangle of fur and feathers, the one using his claws and beak, the other his hands, feet and teeth. Jack paid no need to the upcoming ground, intent on taking the bird down with him, and quite literally if you please.
For the love of Him.
***
She listened to the men as they returned onto her, bearing the corpse of the parrot. It seemed that the bird had managed to slit the monkey’s throat, divine justice for the way it had dealt with Mr Cotton if there ever was, while the bird’s skull had split upon impact with the ground. She was thankful that they had brought the parrot over to give him a proper funeral, just as they had his late master. She only wished, the kind of wish that she harboured hopelessly, that they would understand that Jack-the-monkey deserved the same honour.
She watched Joshamee clasp a golden earring around one of the parrot's ankles, ever faithful to his superstitious beliefs, and she softly flapped her sails in approbation. She listened to her very own Jack as he made a moving speech about the bird and his loyalty to his master, expressive hands and eyes saying more than his fleeting words. She wondered whether he saw it, maybe; she wondered whether the two animals had seen it as they plummeted to their deaths, bodies curled one around the other in a last testimony to the love they had borne their masters. How alike they had been.
Gibbs was the one to throw the corpse to the sea and she flapped her sails more loudly in salute of the parrot's passing. Her hull creaked with sorrow.
That night, as Jack writhed in his sleep for no reason he could have truthfully named, the Black Pearl paused in her mourning to pay closer attention to him. See where loyalty leads, she told him sadly. And such shall be our fate, for we are bound to each other beyond this world. He would not remember her words in the morning, but he took comfort in her in his sleep, and she was contented. She thought of a bird and of an ape, and again her wood creaked with sorrow, but she rocked Jack into an easier sleep and it all seemed worth it, no matter how it ended, or where.
~~ fin ~~
Rating: probably PG-13
Disclaimer: They're not mine, no matter how much I dream that they are at night.
Summary: The final battle of two great foes who have more in common than most imagine.
REQUESTOR: meletor_et_al
2) Jack the Monkey/Mr. Cotton's Parrot, ...probably not graphic, as that
would be entirely difficult and borderline squicky, but hey, if inspiration
hits, run with it and never look back!
Author's note: I hope this will please you. It's probably not exactly what you expected, but... I hope you'll like it all the same!
Beyond This World
It had been long coming. Ten years. Ten years had the bloody thing eluded them all, ten years had it roamed free and wrecked chaos where it passed. Only three years since it had killed Him, Him that had been his life. Many a man did not deem high the love a pet bore his master, or deemed it stupid, but the parrot knew better. The love he had borne Him was not foolish, nor blind. He well knew why He had taken him on; He had needed a voice. The parrot had taken up the job with fervour, though his words seemed to puzzle the other men at first. Fools that they were, to not understand him. His master might not have had a tongue, but being unable to speak only taught Him to listen. His master understood him. And his master had been taken away from him by that lowly, good-for-nothing excuse for a monkey, three years gone now.
Jack, they said it was called. It had got a name when the parrot had always had to go without, since He was scarcely able to give him one and the bird would not have let anyone else name him. The injustice of it still rankled in his chest as he watched the damned monkey climb up the stony walls, desperate for a way out.
The parrot looked at the Aztec chest as the one that liked to talk with the sea, Pearl’s beloved, closed it with a loud thunk. The curse was lifted, the monkey liable to die again. The men were all shouting, brandishing swords and pistols, some of them even firing at it. There were not many of them, all the others still on Pearl outside, but they made such a racket as would have sent him flying away in distaste if he had not been so intent on his revenge.
The monkey shrieked in defiance and the parrot took his flight. In his mind he called forth His image, the day He had bought the bird off in that market with the man Gibbs by his side, and the man Gibbs’ scepticism even as he explained to the parrot what was expected of him. The parrot had acquiesced, Wind in the sails, wind in the sails, and the man Gibbs had looked forlorn and comforted in his doubts, but He had shaken his head strongly, resting a protective hand over his feathers. The man Gibbs had relented and let Him do as He pleased, and keep the bloody bird if that be what ye want. And He and the parrot had shared their first look, the look that said that they understood each other, no matter that the rest of the world did not.
He flew as he had never flown before, powerful strokes of his wings that made him feel like much more than the simple parrot he was, heedless of the shots that gradually died down as he got closer to his target. The monkey spotted him and shrieked yet again, looking madly about for a way out, but the closest was still a good fifty feet up and he would not get there in time, oh no, the parrot would see to that.
He soared up through the air and he could imagine his beak shining as beams of light fell on it, his colourful feathers smoothed back as the wind rushed through his spread wings, there was but one goal now as he yelled out His name, Cotton, Cotton: close his beak around that hairy little neck, shred that skin with his sharp claws, tear it all out and end that monstrosity’s life.
For the love of Him.
***
Jack climbed easily up the stone walls of the cave, hands and feet grasping at the asperities of the rock, scrambling higher, always higher. Beams of light fell into the cave through holes at the top and he meant to reach them and vanish into the jungle outside. The shots did not faze him, there had been few men that would scare him and those were not the sort. Weaklings, when Jack had sailed with the hardest, strongest of them all. When Jack had served the One that was greater than all the others.
He remembered the smile that bared yellow teeth in the most frightening of ways and snarled at no one in particular as still higher up he climbed. Jack's namesake, yes, he was one of the few that the monkey could fear, and he was the one who had taken it all away from him, with the blessing of that bloody ship that He had also loved. But His love of her had been selfish and brutal, while Pearl loved the monkey's namesake back with all of herself, sails and hull and the space in between too, it had all longed for Jack-the-man. He had tried to let Him know, but His understanding of the monkey did not go that far.
How happy she had been, when her precious Jack-the-man was returned to her. Jack hadn’t been there to see it, making his way as he was from the Isla de Muerta to the nearest inhabited shore, walking the depths of the ocean, but she had been reeking of satisfaction when he next spotted them, a good ten years ago. Ten years since His greatness had gone out of the world, snuffed out as easily as the flame of a candle, though He had burned stronger, brighter and longer than any other fire in the whole damned world. But none of them would see it.
Sometimes he thought his namesake had seen it. Jack-the-man always stood apart from other such creatures, not unlike He had. But Jack-the-man was weak too, that was how and why he had lost Pearl, and Pearl had lost him. It still made no sense to Jack that Jack-the-man could have killed Him, but at the very same time he was bound to acknowledge that no one else should have.
He looked down when the shots stopped ringing in his ears, spotted the bloody bird flying towards him. Of course. He had spent those ten years taking revenge as he could on all those who walked in the shadow of Jack-the-man and that bird had taken a personal dislike to Jack after the monkey slit his master’s throat. The fool did not have the leisure to cry out an inarticulate warning to the crew, but the bird raised a ruckus and left a few very impressive claw marks down Jack’s ribs. He hadn’t cared, the curse had protected him. The blood dripping from his arm reminded him painfully that he had no such protection now.
He shrieked at the bird, assessed his chances of reaching an exit in time. They were null. He had learned that much from knowing Him, to be realistic, to never trust a fool’s hope. Jack knew that his time had come. He grinned ferociously, then pushed off the wall to collide harshly with the approaching bird.
They fell through the hair, a tangle of fur and feathers, the one using his claws and beak, the other his hands, feet and teeth. Jack paid no need to the upcoming ground, intent on taking the bird down with him, and quite literally if you please.
For the love of Him.
***
She listened to the men as they returned onto her, bearing the corpse of the parrot. It seemed that the bird had managed to slit the monkey’s throat, divine justice for the way it had dealt with Mr Cotton if there ever was, while the bird’s skull had split upon impact with the ground. She was thankful that they had brought the parrot over to give him a proper funeral, just as they had his late master. She only wished, the kind of wish that she harboured hopelessly, that they would understand that Jack-the-monkey deserved the same honour.
She watched Joshamee clasp a golden earring around one of the parrot's ankles, ever faithful to his superstitious beliefs, and she softly flapped her sails in approbation. She listened to her very own Jack as he made a moving speech about the bird and his loyalty to his master, expressive hands and eyes saying more than his fleeting words. She wondered whether he saw it, maybe; she wondered whether the two animals had seen it as they plummeted to their deaths, bodies curled one around the other in a last testimony to the love they had borne their masters. How alike they had been.
Gibbs was the one to throw the corpse to the sea and she flapped her sails more loudly in salute of the parrot's passing. Her hull creaked with sorrow.
That night, as Jack writhed in his sleep for no reason he could have truthfully named, the Black Pearl paused in her mourning to pay closer attention to him. See where loyalty leads, she told him sadly. And such shall be our fate, for we are bound to each other beyond this world. He would not remember her words in the morning, but he took comfort in her in his sleep, and she was contented. She thought of a bird and of an ape, and again her wood creaked with sorrow, but she rocked Jack into an easier sleep and it all seemed worth it, no matter how it ended, or where.
~~ fin ~~