They say that Jack Sparrow is a son of a gun, born in the eye of a hurricane, his father the craziest pirate to ever sail the seven seas, his mother a witch and a savage (though which flavour of savage tends to vary with the telling).
They say so very many things.
The truth?
The truth is a little more complicated...
***
June in Port Royal, and this night in the year of our lord 1692 is as hot and humid as every other night of the year.
There is a young man, dancing through the narrow streets of this, the Sodom of the New World. He's been celebrating.
Earlier today, long before the sun sank beneath the waves, he and his friends landed with their loot, the riches of a raid gone well - and maybe it was just a small sloop and maybe the loot wasn't that rich, but it is a beginning, and the beginning is washing everything else away, the stench and horror of the slave-ship on which he worked his passage, the filth and hunger of the narrow streets of London.
Everything. Washed away as by the tide. Because now he has this. Now he is this. And so he is celebrating.
His new friend is celebrating with him, his new friend that he met at the second - or was it the third tavern? - and they are dancing through the streets, arm in arm, drinking from each other's bottles of rum, and oh, it is glorious.
Into an alley they dance, away from the crowds of drunks and whores and men with sharp knives and shifty looks, away from the meager light cast by spluttering torches. Away from it all.
They're laughing, just the two of them, still laughing as the young man sinks to his knees in front of his new friend, fingers sliding through hair that he never bothered to cut, and perhaps this act of carnal worship is as unfamiliar to him as the rites in a Papist church, but oh, he is young and he is drunk and anyway, when has Teague ever been afraid to venture forth where even angels fear to tread?
"Oh, Kali is going to love you."
***
They say that Jack Sparrow is a changeling, that a cold wind came down from the north and got a mermaid with child, that they carried away a human child and left him in its place.
Ooo, now that's an interesting idea. Teague with Gabriel and Kali... and Jack coming along somewhere in that tangle -- no wonder he's basically Bugs Bunny in a tricorn hat then, is it?
Somewhere else, there's a woman, standing by a fold. She looks very - well, she looks very.
"But why aren't you at this family reunion?"
"Oh, but I don't mind filling in for cousin Binky - someone has to, you know, and besides, I really don't mind. Your granddad hardly weighs anything - not half as much as Uncle Odin, anyway. It's practically like a vacation."
An unconvinced eyebrow is raised.
"I mean, it's not like those family reunions are really all that much fun, anyway - Bucephalos always eats all the best treats before anyone else can even get to the buffet, Pegasus has been insufferable ever since he helped slay that chimera creature, Unicorn spends the whole time bragging about having dipped his horn in this girl and that girl - and sooner or later the centaurs get drunk and we all know how that goes..."
The eyebrow stays raised.
"Look, it's just - well, Dad finally managed to convince Mom to come along this year, and it's just, well, I don't think Mom's ever really forgiven him for that whole 'catching him' business, and, well, I just thought it'd be best if I wasn't there to remind him. You know?"
Seeing an eight-legged horse shrug awkwardly is a rather unusual sight, even for this place.
The woman frowns as the horse retreats to the other side of the fold, nipping at black grass. Then she sighs, shaking her head and resuming her interrupted walk towards the house. Later, she tells herself, later.
It's not like this is the first time she feels the need to have a chat with a child's parents. It's just that she always wishes that she didn't have to.
Eight-legged horse shrug! Hee! *grins* Love the last line - Susan's instincts are so very schoolteachery. Poor Sleipnir, with a family like that. Love the first line, too, for that matter - it's so very perfectly Discworldy. She looks very - well, she looks very. Fantastic! Thank you :)
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From:
Probably not the pirate you were thinking of
They say so very many things.
The truth?
The truth is a little more complicated...
***
June in Port Royal, and this night in the year of our lord 1692 is as hot and humid as every other night of the year.
There is a young man, dancing through the narrow streets of this, the Sodom of the New World. He's been celebrating.
Earlier today, long before the sun sank beneath the waves, he and his friends landed with their loot, the riches of a raid gone well - and maybe it was just a small sloop and maybe the loot wasn't that rich, but it is a beginning, and the beginning is washing everything else away, the stench and horror of the slave-ship on which he worked his passage, the filth and hunger of the narrow streets of London.
Everything. Washed away as by the tide. Because now he has this. Now he is this. And so he is celebrating.
His new friend is celebrating with him, his new friend that he met at the second - or was it the third tavern? - and they are dancing through the streets, arm in arm, drinking from each other's bottles of rum, and oh, it is glorious.
Into an alley they dance, away from the crowds of drunks and whores and men with sharp knives and shifty looks, away from the meager light cast by spluttering torches. Away from it all.
They're laughing, just the two of them, still laughing as the young man sinks to his knees in front of his new friend, fingers sliding through hair that he never bothered to cut, and perhaps this act of carnal worship is as unfamiliar to him as the rites in a Papist church, but oh, he is young and he is drunk and anyway, when has Teague ever been afraid to venture forth where even angels fear to tread?
"Oh, Kali is going to love you."
***
They say that Jack Sparrow is a changeling, that a cold wind came down from the north and got a mermaid with child, that they carried away a human child and left him in its place.
They say so very many things.
The truth?
The truth is threefold...
From:
Re: Probably not the pirate you were thinking of
From:
no subject
From:
Discworld isn't really one of my written fandoms, but here goes...
Somewhere else, there's a woman, standing by a fold. She looks very - well, she looks very.
"But why aren't you at this family reunion?"
"Oh, but I don't mind filling in for cousin Binky - someone has to, you know, and besides, I really don't mind. Your granddad hardly weighs anything - not half as much as Uncle Odin, anyway. It's practically like a vacation."
An unconvinced eyebrow is raised.
"I mean, it's not like those family reunions are really all that much fun, anyway - Bucephalos always eats all the best treats before anyone else can even get to the buffet, Pegasus has been insufferable ever since he helped slay that chimera creature, Unicorn spends the whole time bragging about having dipped his horn in this girl and that girl - and sooner or later the centaurs get drunk and we all know how that goes..."
The eyebrow stays raised.
"Look, it's just - well, Dad finally managed to convince Mom to come along this year, and it's just, well, I don't think Mom's ever really forgiven him for that whole 'catching him' business, and, well, I just thought it'd be best if I wasn't there to remind him. You know?"
Seeing an eight-legged horse shrug awkwardly is a rather unusual sight, even for this place.
The woman frowns as the horse retreats to the other side of the fold, nipping at black grass. Then she sighs, shaking her head and resuming her interrupted walk towards the house. Later, she tells herself, later.
It's not like this is the first time she feels the need to have a chat with a child's parents. It's just that she always wishes that she didn't have to.
From:
Re: Discworld isn't really one of my written fandoms, but here goes...