POTC -Blood
Jun. 14th, 2004 05:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chase_acow
I'm nearly to reach my one week mark of posting something everyday! Go me!
This is the second theme in a three part arc, but really none of them have anything to do with the others. Feel free to comment about anything. I can take criticism, I need it if I'm ever going to get any better.
POTC- Blood
500 words
Jack/Will
Will Turner’s blood began to sing. It hadn’t always but since his mad adventure with the maddest pirate of them all, his blood had woken and there was apparently no shutting it up. He now knew passion, blood that raced through his veins like an itch he couldn’t scratch. No longer was he content with sitting in his forge and making precision soulless blades for precision soulless people. He’d only been going through the motions before, and now he couldn’t stand the thought of another month, week, another moment of pretending.
His blood hummed whenever he was in sight of the ocean, not even the crash of the waves drowning it out. He would steal down to the cove at sunset to part of the beach no one ever went, leaving behind his bright red cloak and feathered hat, and was just Will again. He could feel a need through his fingers nearly bursting through his skin, blood, restless, as he tasted the sharp salt of the sea. The wind caressed his face, playing with his hair and bringing with it the promise of something new. Promising something wonderful if only he would follow.
His blood throbbed as Will stood aboard a ship bound for Tortuga. It pulsed in time as the bow of the ship crested and then slammed into the water again. He’d bartered his share of the swords he made for passage to the pirate’s island, as the captain had been only too happy to outfit his men. He’d left without goodbye, he knew he’d feel cowardly about it for a long time, but he couldn’t bear to be the reason for any more pain. The last time he’d looked in Elizabeth’s eyes, he knew he couldn’t see her anymore. The ship felt good, but it still wasn’t right, his blood craved more. He spent his time in the small passenger cabin or on a lonely part of the ship, hardly speaking and eating even less.
His blood boiled the next time he saw Jack, the pirate happily drinking himself into oblivion in one of the many whorehouses populating the island. Will could feel it inside, roaring in his ears one moment, whispering the next and never ceasing to beg for release. The captain’s persona hadn’t changed a bit as he stepped up to greet Will like a long lost friend. To say he was less then impressed to find the tip of Will’s sword against his neck yet again would be a bit of an understatement.
Will’s blood murmured tiredly as he awoke from the lightest of sleeps. Disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, his arm carefully stretched out and met the resistance of a warm body. The murmur rose for a moment and then subsided as Will pressed his face into the pirate’s shoulder and fell back asleep. In his sleep Jack rolled, positioning Will in the hollow between neck and shoulder resting his chin on the lad’s soft hair. He’d finally found his home.
This is the second theme in a three part arc, but really none of them have anything to do with the others. Feel free to comment about anything. I can take criticism, I need it if I'm ever going to get any better.
POTC- Blood
500 words
Jack/Will
Will Turner’s blood began to sing. It hadn’t always but since his mad adventure with the maddest pirate of them all, his blood had woken and there was apparently no shutting it up. He now knew passion, blood that raced through his veins like an itch he couldn’t scratch. No longer was he content with sitting in his forge and making precision soulless blades for precision soulless people. He’d only been going through the motions before, and now he couldn’t stand the thought of another month, week, another moment of pretending.
His blood hummed whenever he was in sight of the ocean, not even the crash of the waves drowning it out. He would steal down to the cove at sunset to part of the beach no one ever went, leaving behind his bright red cloak and feathered hat, and was just Will again. He could feel a need through his fingers nearly bursting through his skin, blood, restless, as he tasted the sharp salt of the sea. The wind caressed his face, playing with his hair and bringing with it the promise of something new. Promising something wonderful if only he would follow.
His blood throbbed as Will stood aboard a ship bound for Tortuga. It pulsed in time as the bow of the ship crested and then slammed into the water again. He’d bartered his share of the swords he made for passage to the pirate’s island, as the captain had been only too happy to outfit his men. He’d left without goodbye, he knew he’d feel cowardly about it for a long time, but he couldn’t bear to be the reason for any more pain. The last time he’d looked in Elizabeth’s eyes, he knew he couldn’t see her anymore. The ship felt good, but it still wasn’t right, his blood craved more. He spent his time in the small passenger cabin or on a lonely part of the ship, hardly speaking and eating even less.
His blood boiled the next time he saw Jack, the pirate happily drinking himself into oblivion in one of the many whorehouses populating the island. Will could feel it inside, roaring in his ears one moment, whispering the next and never ceasing to beg for release. The captain’s persona hadn’t changed a bit as he stepped up to greet Will like a long lost friend. To say he was less then impressed to find the tip of Will’s sword against his neck yet again would be a bit of an understatement.
Will’s blood murmured tiredly as he awoke from the lightest of sleeps. Disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, his arm carefully stretched out and met the resistance of a warm body. The murmur rose for a moment and then subsided as Will pressed his face into the pirate’s shoulder and fell back asleep. In his sleep Jack rolled, positioning Will in the hollow between neck and shoulder resting his chin on the lad’s soft hair. He’d finally found his home.
