tampered | Log: Complete-ish

When: Late afternoon. July 12th
Rating: PG, thus far
Characters: Jack Sparrow (open to all)
Summary: Jack's cabin fever and general mental state have been worsening since the second he arrived in the city. Today is more than he can take. He's gone in search of rum and escape from his thoughts and the images haunting him. Now he's wandering the center of town, shouting at reflections and worse. CAUTION!!: SPOILERS!

Log:

There is only so much a man can deny, even in the name of preserving his delicate sanity. Jack Sparrow doesn't dare to contemplate death. It has never been something he let himself see as a possibility. The sickness that hangs over him and his arrival in this dark place have been nagging reminders of things he'd rather not let himself believe...even if he knows it to be true. Now, though, the facts are laid out before him in every pane of glass, every puddle, every bright and shining thing.
There was no escaping the kraken.
The Pearl is gone forever.
The world no longer holds a place for Captain Jack Sparrow.

He made his way underground, but even the dark depths of this living hell were not enough to save him the visions. Jack laid what coin he had on the bar and took two large bottles of rum. One was mostly gone before he made it back to the surface and what remained of it was smashed through a shop window to kill the image of a great and terrible squid.
Now he wanders the town square; drunk, frightened, and mad as ten bales of hay. Jack brings the rum to his lips with one hand as the other brandishes his cutlass against any who approach him. He spins to face a window only to see the sweet eyes of a young woman looking cold as forged steel as she brings chains to bind him. The huge and ominous figure of Davey Jones smiles from behind her and waits for Jack's soul.

"No!! Elizabeth!! You'll not bloody have me, you harpy!" He slashes at the glass with his sword, marring the surface with cracks and scratches, but failing to kill the nightmare. Jack drops down limply to the street, staring at the window and watching her come for him. He can see himself being bound and he hates the feelings that look in her eyes stirs in him. "...That which vexes all men..."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Will wanders into the square with the bottle of rum heavy in his hand. He's not entirely sure about what's happened, but he prays, silently, that Jack hasn't gotten himself in too much trouble.

He sees Jack arguing with a distant figure, whose voice sounds an awful lot like...

The Commodore's?

Will doesn't have much time. The sight pounds in his head, a constant reminder. He's walking a lot faster than he should.

Too quietly: "Jack?"

And in a too quiet gesture, he offers the rum, hoping that he's not worsening what evil has come upon his father's friend, his Captain.

The pirate only barely hears his name. He wheels around in a slow, swaying turn and works to focus his eyes on William. Jack's eyes are glassy and wild and everything in his manner says he's either quite drunk or gone quite mad. Possibly both.

"Will! Good lad!" He snatches the rum from the boy, turning and tossing what's left of his other bottle through the nearest window. In the bottle, surely, lies salvation from this torment. Though, in the bottle, all he sees is his trusted first-mate and every man in his crew leaving him for dead on a pathetic little island. He uncorks the bottle and swallows down foul memory.
"Hell has come to haunt me, Will Turner. All we need do is destroy everything what reflects image or light. Help me...?"

His eyes...

They had always said Jack Sparrow had gone daft before. But Will had never seen anybody look at him like that.

He tightens his grip around nothing, knowing now that he shouldn't have even brought the rum. Being mad is one thing, but being drunk is another, and putting the two together would be nothing but trouble to Jack. Especially to Jack.

He freezes for a moment at Jack's request, and something very small comes out of his mouth, not wanting to upset him: "You...you just don't look at anything that reflects, right? And then you'll be safe...won't you?"

"Won't I, Will? Somehow I can't be so certain anymore..."

He can not look, but he'll still know it's there. And what's to stop the images in his head? Jack looks as weak and needy as he's capable of. There's still a danger lingering in the way his unsteady hand hovers on the hilt of his cutlass and his movements are nervous and twitchy like a cornered animal, but it's all product of a man who's lost his footing on the world.

"The ship... We'll have her fit and ready soon, yes? We...we'll be rid of this wretched place...?"

I've never seen him so hopeless, Will thinks. Jack was always the one who could run through the raindrops, who saw a silver lining on every cloud. If he's fallen into despair...

Will can't finish the thought. He won't allow himself to. He swallows nervously when he sees Jack's hand on the cutlass handle, praying with all he's got that the pirate doesn't take it out. A rogue blade as sharp as that, under Jack's control, could cause a lot of damage.

"Yes, Jack," Will promises, lying completely through his teeth. He's not going to repeat what the others have said about a dome blocking the sky and possibly the sea too. He just won't, especially when Jack's like this.

"We'll be out of the City...we'll be home."

"Good.. good."
For a moment he seems lost in thought, but with a bit of effort, Jack shakes off any obvious signs of his melancholy and grins with that glint of gold.

"Setbacks, the lot of it! Nothing to get too troubled by, eh? We'll be out and free and on about the job of finding the Pearl in no time at all."

For the moment, Jack needs to believe things he's fairly certain aren't true. Will seems the sort who will humour this need.

The grin seems so unnatural after all that Jack's been saying and doing. Will can't really bring himself to look at it, but he reminds himself to be strong. Jack needs him here to say it's all right, to shoo the sorrows away without any rum.

"Yeah," Will says, trying to sound as sure as he can. "We'll find her. I won't rest until we do."

"You're a fine man, Will Turner. As good a man as your father."

Jack takes a stumbling few steps towards Will and puts his arm over the young man's shoulders.

"Have you been underground yet, mate? Bloody brilliant.."

"Thank y--" Will starts to say, but slightly winces when Jack puts his arm around his shoulders. The rum smells foul on the Captain's breath, so to ignore it, Will only swallows and answers the question.

"Not yet," he admits, forcing a small smile. "Why? Do you want to go?"

"It's fabulous, Will. All these colored lights and things and pubs with all manner of drink. The rum..." His lips curl in on the 'm' and he smiles awkwardly, mouth pursed. "...it comes in flavours..es..ss." He gets stuck on the end of the word and puts fingers to his mouth to stop it.

"I may have visited enough for one night..." Jack's brows furrow as more of his weight is laid against Will.

Will nods in agreement with Jack's musings, shifting a little to support his weight. He curses himself for not finding a place to stay sooner, but then he remembers the ship, waiting for them near the ocean.

"Do you want me to take you back?"

"It may be best, lad. There is much left to be done... I fear there are rough seas ahead, Will Turner."
He gets uncomfortably close, not being very expert at gaging distance right now, and pokes Will in the chest to make his point before slumping against him.

"Lead on. To my ship, and better things."

Log: Complete-ish

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