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At the end of this day, Jack Sparrow has been hung, and James couldn’t stop it.
“No,” James hisses, feeling the strong hands of a few Marines against his chest. He struggles to push forward. Perhaps he can make one last stand and cut him down. Perhaps it’s not too late yet. “Let me through,” he commands in a booming voice, but that only brings another two Marines down upon him to hold him there.
He mutters a curse or two while he watches the slow sway of Jack’s suspended feet.
“Jack,” he mutters with defeat as he gives up, and his limbs go limp.
He’s failed, after all.
there lived the greatest of knights and among them lived Tristan who stood proud, true and heldloyal to his very last breath
Lilah: And of all people, he came running to you.
Wes: What’s the matter, Lilah? Upset you weren’t the first choice when it came to spiting Angel? After all, you worked so very hard to drive a stake between the boy and his father.
Lilah: Wes, lay off the puns.
Wes: He came to me. Begging.
Lilah: It doesn’t matter.
Wes: You weren’t the first choice, Lilah, darling. And I do hope you get used to it.
“A pox on those who built this city,” Dominic spat upon the earth, “with blood on mutinous hands and venomous hearts. A plague and a curse upon the heads of the Capulets’, upon the limbs of the Montagues’, and ill wishes to all remaining parts.”
In the shadow of the sun, o’er past the sands and by the crashing of the waves, Dominic sat in the reflection of the sun upon the sea. In the shadow of one other he sat, his tongue at work to devour the last traces of his orange-colour’d iced confection. The stain of which blossomed deep orange and left traces of sugar lingering over pink lips.
The day brought unrelenting heat, which was beating upon Dominic’s back, and with it the heat brought an unnatural course to the air; shimmering and waving as though a threshold to another place. In the shadow of William, in the shadow of Dominic, the waves crashed upon the shore, and the sunset slowly dipped into the calm waters in the west. Dominic stretched at the fabric and brushed past the trails of trickling sweat to fan at the heat, and chase away the vexation it caused.
“A pox on your idle mind, and your idle plans,” William retorted evenly, not moving, nor rising to the challenge. “A pox on your idle talks of curses and plagues, and a bother this weather is.”
“A bother you are.”
“And a bother I shall ever be.”
“No,” James hisses, feeling the strong hands of a few Marines against his chest. He struggles to push forward. Perhaps he can make one last stand and cut him down. Perhaps it’s not too late yet. “Let me through,” he commands in a booming voice, but that only brings another two Marines down upon him to hold him there.
He mutters a curse or two while he watches the slow sway of Jack’s suspended feet.
“Jack,” he mutters with defeat as he gives up, and his limbs go limp.
He’s failed, after all.
there lived the greatest of knights and among them lived Tristan who stood proud, true and heldloyal to his very last breath
Lilah: And of all people, he came running to you.
Wes: What’s the matter, Lilah? Upset you weren’t the first choice when it came to spiting Angel? After all, you worked so very hard to drive a stake between the boy and his father.
Lilah: Wes, lay off the puns.
Wes: He came to me. Begging.
Lilah: It doesn’t matter.
Wes: You weren’t the first choice, Lilah, darling. And I do hope you get used to it.
“A pox on those who built this city,” Dominic spat upon the earth, “with blood on mutinous hands and venomous hearts. A plague and a curse upon the heads of the Capulets’, upon the limbs of the Montagues’, and ill wishes to all remaining parts.”
In the shadow of the sun, o’er past the sands and by the crashing of the waves, Dominic sat in the reflection of the sun upon the sea. In the shadow of one other he sat, his tongue at work to devour the last traces of his orange-colour’d iced confection. The stain of which blossomed deep orange and left traces of sugar lingering over pink lips.
The day brought unrelenting heat, which was beating upon Dominic’s back, and with it the heat brought an unnatural course to the air; shimmering and waving as though a threshold to another place. In the shadow of William, in the shadow of Dominic, the waves crashed upon the shore, and the sunset slowly dipped into the calm waters in the west. Dominic stretched at the fabric and brushed past the trails of trickling sweat to fan at the heat, and chase away the vexation it caused.
“A pox on your idle mind, and your idle plans,” William retorted evenly, not moving, nor rising to the challenge. “A pox on your idle talks of curses and plagues, and a bother this weather is.”
“A bother you are.”
“And a bother I shall ever be.”
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