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Pearl Tales
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Pirates of the Caribbean
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a Challenge:
Extremities
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By Lorraine ~ Extremities ~ From Merriam-Webster Online Main Entry: ex•trem•i•ty An island that cannot be found except by those who know where
it is. A paradox. The extremity of the Caribbean. Not exactly
sure By Jenthegypsy ~ Extremities Drabble ~ There are so many areas of delicious possibility arrayed along the body of a woman, Jack thought, standing atop the keg of rum, rough rim cutting into the soles of his feet. The keg settled itself under his weight, nestling further into the sand to become somewhat less wobbly than its unusual adornment. Take the foot, for example. Like the one resting on the shelf of his right hip, and the other, on his left. Or the knee. With its remarkable ability to bend and elevate just so, in order to facilitate the foot to a higher station – such as his right shoulder – or, again, his left. Or the ankle. Which, when inadvertently brushed by his fingertips, sent a shiver through him which had absolutely nothing to do with the sea breeze. “Just a bit further, Jack.” Her voice drifted to him through the haze of his reverie. “I’m almost there!” Yes, he thought, stretching a little more and firming his grip on those perfect ankles, which, along with those perfect feet, rested upon his (if he did say so himself) perfect shoulders. So many areas of possibility. “That’s it!” she cried and he fell backward off the keg, thrown off balance by the sudden absence of her weight. He lay there in the sand, watching her climb to the uppermost reaches of the palm, flushed and positively aglow with triumph, to scan the distant horizon for the first sign of rescue. So many possibilities, indeed. By Cymbeline ~ Footwork ~ Coulé (Glide) A preparatory
action that is made by gliding along the side of the * Presenting himself across the length of blade his eyes met the intruder's. He tried to maintain composure as the challenge was met with a sneer and coulé. For years he'd fought naught but shadows in the lazy afternoons, whispering the movements as he parried dust that floated in the air. Now, faced with flesh and blood his pulse pounded in his ears and every nerve felt the conversation between the blades. The steel felt lighter in his grip as the motions flowed from memory. This was what he'd been waiting for and he wanted to make good on the rehearsals. By Felaine ~ Extremity
~ It is unconscionable the British Navy has been driven to the extremity of conspiracy and cooperation with a pirate. Particularly this pirate. Please God, my suspicious are wrong. I hope Sparrow can be trusted. I hope we safely rescue Turner (who isn't a bad sort, merely misguided), and eliminate this last pirate threat. But if my fears are valid--God have mercy on us--it may fall to another to dispose of my belongings, and I have specific instructions regarding this journal. My mother is...emotional; my father long dead. Send this to my grandmother, Belle, whose letters you will find in my rooms ashore. She, as Shakespeare writes, is "made of sterner stuff." I trust my journal's fate, and my love, to her. ~ Endures All Things ~ Struggling through the wet and the dark, Bill's arms were rapidly approaching that point where aching gave way to numbness. The strain in his legs seemed a thing almost apart from him, their labor something that no longer required conscious effort on his part. He dare not let his efforts slack for even an instant, though. He'd sink if he did, crushed under exhaustion and terror. God, help me. I'm so afraid. So afraid. Finally, amber light burst through the murk of his fear, and Bill lunged forward, forcing his dragging feet to run the last steps to his destination, here at what had to be the end of the bloody earth. A booted foot worked as well as a fist for pounding a frantic summons on the doctor's door, but the sound and movement drew a moan from the ragdoll-limp body Bill carried, and he felt the arm slung bonelessly around his neck tighten, a hand clenching in the cotton of his shirt. Burning to death with fever, Jack felt so hot against the front
of Bill's body it seemed the icy rain should have raised steam
where it Jack made another small noise of pain, shivering, and Bill's
taxed arms drew him nearer, his own aches forgotten so quickly
they might * By Jenthegypsy ~ Who Gives This Woman ~ She was, after all, his only child, the very heart of his soul
and the last vestige of his beloved wife, gone these many years.
Was it any He pressed to memory her every feature as they made their way slowly down the aisle, blending images of the woman she had become with those of the child she had been. Would always be. In his heart. Elizabeth. By Geek Mama ~ In Extremis ~ "You'd have thought the fool was oblivious to the fact that he was about to be hung!" scoffed Andrew. "Do you think so?" James smiled a little, lifting a brow. "Nonsense!" objected Theo. "Merely he would not demean himself. He knew how to die." "Oh, you are besotted!" Andrew snapped, quite exasperated.
"Why, he was actually chuckling as his crimes were enumerated.
No "Debatable," James said, before Theo could retort.
"But one cannot deny that he is, at least, exceptionally
fortunate." James tossed off The two junior officers had risen as well, and Theo exclaimed, "Sir! The pleasure was ours!" "Indeed, sir!" Andrew agreed. Norrington favored them with a slight bow. "Good night to you both." They bowed in return, then resumed their seats as the straight figure left the taproom of the inn. When their commander was out of earshot, Andrew said, quietly, "Poor devil. He's taking it surprisingly well. But perhaps Miss Swann had not his heart, after all." Theo gave his friend an odd look. "Nonsense," he said, again. By Erinya ~ Ankles Aweigh ~ She has soot on her nose and fire in her eyes as she climbs out of the boat onto the deck of the Dauntless, shaking off her father's attempt to assist her. "James!" "I am very glad to see you safe," I say; and it would not be proper to say just how glad. Then I see the braided and bedraggled creature stepping delicately from the skiff behind her. "Jack Sparrow again--! He was with you?" The rogue leaves off casting affronted looks at Murtogg and Mullroy--who possess sufficient sense to seize and hold him fast--long enough to wave at me cheekily. I train my most threatening glare upon him. "If you have so much as touched the lady--" "I'm all right, James," snaps the lady in question. "My virtue is quite unbesmirched. May I ask why we are sailing in the wrong direction?" "I beg your pardon?" I am trying not to look at her lovely ankles, brazenly displayed as they are; for thoughts of ankles lead to thoughts of calves, and thereby to knees, and from there—-well, by such thoughts a gentleman would be lost indeed. "Perhaps you’d best leave the navigation to us," I hear myself say. "Our bearing is north-north-east, Elizabeth, towards Jamaica." She certainly doesn't look unbesmirched, she in her shift again, salt-stained and sandy-hemmed. It’s the second time that villain Sparrow has returned her half-naked and barefoot, hair unfastened in a wild tangle around her white shoulders, giving much more the impression of a dunked milkmaid than of a well-born Governor’s daughter... Somehow, the look suits her. Flashing eyes, fierce roses on her cheeks, and all--- Oh. "But we've got to save Will!" Damn and blast. I might have seen that coming, were it not for those brazen ankles.
~.~
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