honorat: (Will and Elizabeth by Honorat)
[personal profile] honorat
By Honorat
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Well, then, I confess, it is my intention to commandeer PotC, pick up the characters in Port Royal, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out!

Summary: Will and Elizabeth have a teen-aged moment and one perfect day. Estrella gets a few prematurely gray hairs. Angst again. We will rejoin our regularly scheduled movie for the epic fight between Jack and Will after the next installment. More movie novelization and missing scenes. Still entirely off the edge of the map.


Thank you, [livejournal.com profile] geek_mama_2, for the wonderful beta work; I’ll buy you a hat—a really big one.

Links to previous chapters:
Prologue: To Miss An Appointment
Ch. 1: Pirate Attack
Ch. 2: Unrestrained Piracy
Ch. 3: Canticle for a Blacksmith, Part 1
Ch. 3: Canticle for a Blacksmith, Part 2
Ch. 3: Canticle for a Blacksmith, Part 3
Ch. 3: Canticle for a Blacksmith, Part 4
Ch. 3: Canticle for a Blacksmith, Part 5
Ch. 3: Canticle for a Blacksmith, Part 6a

* * * * *


The collection of hovels and shelters huddled at the edge of the beach bore all the evidence of being the backdrop for a momentous occasion. The scene was one of colourful pageantry, rich with dark-skinned people in bright ragged clothing, set against the vivid green of the jungle and the white sand of the beach. Children darted about, swift as birds. The air rang with excited calls and happy babble. Several fires were burning under large kettles from which tantalizing odours drifted.

Will guided Estrella to a large, thatched-roof hut with woven walls. It seemed to be in a better state of preservation than many of the other structures. A tiny, wizened old woman met them at the door, her shrunken lips pulled back in a toothless smile.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Will greeted her politely. This woman, unusual in her survival to such an age, held a great deal of status among her people. “Have you a place where this lady can rest and recover from the sea sickness and her headache?”

Nodding rapidly, the woman backed into the shadowy interior. Gesturing to a pile of palmetto mats, she indicated that Estrella should lie down. “I get you a remedy for the sickness.”

A bit dubiously, Estrella allowed herself to be persuaded. It was cooler in the dark of the hut, and lying down would feel so good. She sat down.

The little woman disappeared for a moment and then reappeared with a clay mug filled with an unrecognizable liquid. She held the mug determinedly in front of Estrella’s face. “Drink this,” she commanded.

Even more uncertainly, Estrella gripped the mug and took a small sip. The beverage was not as unpleasant as she had expected. In fact she detected not an insignificant amount of sweetly burning rum as one of the ingredients.

“Now go away,” the old woman ordered Will and Elizabeth. “She sleep well.”

“Run along then, Elizabeth,” Estrella agreed drowsily, already feeling better. “When I’ve rested, we can go home.”

Will and Elizabeth obeyed. Outside in the bright sunlight, Elizabeth whispered to Will, “Did we just drug our chaperone?”

“I don’t know,” Will shrugged. “Maybe. But it won’t hurt her. She’ll feel much better after a good nap. No one here will mind that we are unaccompanied.”

“Who are these people?” Elizabeth asked staring around her.

“Friends of mine,” Will said. “They’re slaves from one of the big plantations.”

He supposed he’d been greatly daring to bring her here—the governor’s daughter at a slaves’ celebration. Will marveled at his own temerity. He knew what her father would say to it. It felt disloyal to be glad Estrella had been too shaken to notice it. But Elizabeth would love it, he knew. The fact that she shouldn’t be at such a gathering would only add spice to her enjoyment.

“Is it a party?” Elizabeth asked, taking in the preparations and the festive atmosphere.

“Yes, I suppose,” said Will. “Their master allows them one day, perhaps once or twice a year.”

“That’s nice,” Elizabeth approved.

Will shook his head. “I don’t think he does it to be nice. It diffuses some of the resentment. Keeps it from blowing up. Imagine how you’d feel if you could never do anything you wanted to do. Ever.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth looked subdued.

He hadn’t meant for this to be such a sobering outing. “They do have a lot of fun, though,” he said. “I’ve gotten to know quite a few of these people through some of the plantation work we do at the smithy, and they invited me. You’ve never seen anything like this. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

Leading her into the crowd, Will greeted his particular friends, shaking hands and clapping backs. “This is my friend, Elizabeth,” he explained simply. Elizabeth’s thoroughbred English ancestry had better remain unmentioned. In her plain, smudged gown, with her hair tangled and her nose pink from the sun, she did not look like the daughter of the governor of Jamaica. For once, he was relieved that Elizabeth only noticed her name when he refused to call her by it. This was not the place to insist on “Miss Swann.”

Wide-eyed with curiosity, Elizabeth grinned back at the welcoming smiles she received from these strangers. She knew her father owned plantations, but she had spent very little time on them, and had never been allowed to associate with the field hands. Now she watched as a large woman enfolded Will in a massive hug.

“Li’l blacksmith better have a big appetite,” the woman boomed, as Will looked suffocated.

Elizabeth giggled. The woman turned her attention on the girl.

“Come, missy. You meet my girls,” she beckoned. Then turning, she bellowed, “Betsy! Maria!”

Two girls separated themselves from a crowd of women around the cauldron over the fire. Considering their mother’s girth, they were astonishingly slender. “Yes, Ma?” the taller one answered.

“This be ‘Lizbeth,” their mother informed them. “She’s Will’s friend. You see she has a good time.”

The three girls stared shyly at each other for a moment.

However, Elizabeth, who had presided at her father’s table for several years now, was completely equal to an awkward social situation. Holding out her hands, she smiled. “What is it that smells so good?” she asked. “Can you show me what you’re cooking?”

Returning her smile, they nodded for her to follow and the three of them scampered off together.

Will watched her go with a smile of his own. This was what he admired about Elizabeth. Not that she consciously condescended to associate with the lower classes, but that she seemed truly oblivious to social barriers. He’d seen her retreat to high society airs, come the grand lady with intent, but only as a weapon—not because she believed it her right, but because she could use it and had need of it. Here among these people who were considered little better than animals by many, and who were often treated worse, Elizabeth seemed unaware of the vast gulf that lay between them.

Her golden brown head bent in unison with two dark glossy ones as they pondered the seasoning in a communal kettle, as if she’d never been served a many course meal under silver covers. Dark and light hands reached for the ladle, and identical laughter rang out as the three girls licked dollops of stew from their fingers.

“It’s perfect!” Elizabeth pronounced. “I’ve never tasted anything more delicious!”

Then Will was drawn away into a crowd of revelers. The next time he caught sight of Elizabeth, she was dancing in a circle with her new friends and a horde of younger children, her pale arms linked with their glowing brown ones. Somewhere, like him, she’d managed to shed her shoes and stockings. Sand was meant for bare feet. Strings of shells adorned her arms and ankles and throat. If there was a young lady inside there, it wasn’t showing on the outside. Over the other noise and chatter he could hear snatches of singing.

“We’re devils and black sheep and really baaaaaad eggs,” Elizabeth caroled at the top of her lungs.

And everyone joined in: “Drink up me hearties. Yo ho!”

Will shook his head in rueful amusement. Elizabeth and her pirate song. The governor shouldn’t worry about low company corrupting his daughter. He should worry about her influence on them.

As the sun began to draw its flame-coloured veils across the sky, Will and Elizabeth rejoined each other with the crowds around the cauldrons of seasoned meat. Their morning of activity in the fresh sea air had left them ravenous. Free of all inhibitions, Elizabeth reveled in eating with her fingers and making a mess. Will had to laugh at her. Since her handkerchief had either been forgotten or lost, she couldn’t remember which, he had to loan her his to clean up.

He began to feel some fellow feeling with her father when he had to rescue Elizabeth from being plied with rum.

“You don’t want to be drinking that!” Will whisked the bottle out of her hands. That was the problem with locking girls up until they could be married off. They hadn’t the slightest idea how to go on. He steered Elizabeth towards where an agile urchin had liberated some coconuts and was slashing the tops off them for folks to drink.

“But I hate coconut milk,” Elizabeth protested.

“It’s that or nothing,” Will informed her. “I don’t think I want to know what you’d be capable of drunk!”

Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at him. She took a sip of the coconut to slake her thirst, screwing her face up with distaste. “The rest is all yours,” she said emphatically.

* * * * *

As the feasting slowed down and the darkness closed in around the circles of firelight, the drums began to throb and a shiver ran through the celebrants. Gradually voices raised in song. It was a song of impossible grief combined with a joy in life that resonated with Will as though these men and women, who’d lost their homes and families and freedom, had read his heart and set his pain to rhythm and music.

The tempo increased, growing wilder. Bodies began to move into cadences and patterns. The pulse of the music set up a counterpoint in Will’s blood.

“Come on, Will,” Elizabeth tugged at his sleeve, her eyes bright with firelight. She was already swaying with the primitive beat. Recklessly, he allowed her to lead him into the dance.

To move, unfettered, frantic as though he were escaping everything, even his own thoughts, was an almost painful respite. Will was aware only of the music and of Elizabeth. She seemed to become music and incarnate fire, flickering like a pale flame amongst the dark ones, painted with brush strokes of golden light and violet shadow, whirling like sparks caught in wind. Light ran down her arms, gilding her plain gown into something fantastic, worthy of a palace, setting her tossing hair aglow. Her hands brushed his like the burning kiss of molten metal as she spun towards him and then away.

As though keeping an unspoken agreement, Will and Elizabeth drew apart from the crowd of gyrating bodies in the direction of the sea. The music still coursed through them so that their walk together more nearly resembled their dance. Elizabeth’s hair swayed in counterpoint to the movements of her body. Her arms and legs seemed caught in the pounding rhythm. Will felt the drumbeats deep in his bones as he was drawn irresistibly by the wild harmonies. Somehow it seemed natural that they should join hands. Their individual movements melded into a single continuous, whirling motion. The silk-smooth touch of Elizabeth’s hand in his rough one sent races of lightning along Will’s arm.

When the sound of the festivities had dwindled far enough into the distance that the strong susurration of the sea dominated the night sounds, they slowed to a gentle walk. The glistening, tide-washed sand sang back to their bare feet with every step. A trail of two sets of footprints followed them for short distances until the long running curls of foam erased them. Will found he hadn’t let go of Elizabeth’s hand.

In the background, palm trees whispered in a soothing interlace of fronds. Far away in the jungle, animal cries occasionally punctuated the peace. Around the curve of the bay, the evening lamps of Port Royal lit windows and doorways with gold while the moon dusted the tile and thatched roofs with paler light. The waters of the harbour threw back flickers of flames and the rippling reflection of the moon. For this moment in time, Will was perfectly happy. The only things in the world were he and Elizabeth and the bright canopy of stars held up by the columns of palms, their dark fretwork capitals edged with the silver wash of the moon. A perfect night to crown their perfect day.

Stopping for a moment, the two of them looked out over the sea.

“Do you see the path the moon makes on the water?” Elizabeth asked.

“I always used to wish I could walk across it,” Will answered.

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “I used to pretend that it was a bridge that led to a wonderful country where all my wishes would come true.” She paused for a moment. “Sometimes I imagined that my mother would be there—if I could just find a way across.”

“I once thought that was the way my father had gone,” Will looked down at the sand.

Elizabeth’s hand tightened on his. “Do you still miss him?”

“No. . . . Yes. . . . I don’t know,” Will had never spoken to anyone about his father. Ever. Suddenly, he wanted to tell Elizabeth.

Awkwardly he tried to piece together his feelings. “I’ve always missed my father—even when we knew where he was and a letter would come once in awhile, or he’d come home once or twice a year. I loved him so much when he was there—his laugh, the way he could lift me up as though I didn’t weigh anything, the way he was so tall no one dared bother my mother or me when he was around, the things he taught me—knots and a little whittling and how to shoot, even how to hit a target with a spitball.”

He paused a moment, reflecting with a private grin that Elizabeth was surely the only young lady who, instead of looking disgusted at the idea of a talent for spitting, would look intrigued. Best not even let her get started with that idea.

He hurried on. “My father even took me fishing once.” Will hated how pathetic his small list of memories sounded. “But I never really knew him,” he admitted.

The warm touch of Elizabeth’s hand was a comfort. Will was glad for the darkness, for the shadows that made it feel like he wasn’t revealing anything, as though the night would swallow all revelation. “I guess I miss ever having had a father, really,” he said finally. “Even if he showed up now, nothing can bring that back.”

Looking at Elizabeth, he said, “You’re lucky to have a father who cares so much for you.”

Elizabeth was silent for a minute; then she admitted, “I know.”

They walked on together, each lost in memory.

“How old were you when your mother died?” Will asked finally, wondering how it was they’d never discussed their parents before.

“I was eight,” Elizabeth said. “I would have had a little sister, if they had lived. But first the baby died and then my mother.”

“I’m sorry,” Will murmured, and it was his turn to press Elizabeth’s hand comfortingly. “Your mother must have been very beautiful.”

“How did you know?” Elizabeth asked, genuinely puzzled.

Will’s smile quirked at her unselfconsciousness. “Lucky guess.”

“She was all the light and life in our house,” Elizabeth went on. “I don’t think the sun ever shone again in England after she died. I only remember rain or sleet or snow. I think my father accepted the post of governor here just to get away from that empty house and gray sky.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath of the warm air, redolent with frangipani blossoms and the sea. “I’m glad we came here.”

“I am too,” Will said simply.

In companionable silence, they wandered along the shore. But Elizabeth could never stay quiet and introspective for long.

“Listen,” she exclaimed, stopping for a moment.

“What?” Will asked, unsure what she’d heard.

Elizabeth waved her hand to encompass the entire bay. “It’s calling to us.”

Tossing Will a sparkling look of mischief, she broke into a coltish gallop, dragging him straight into the water. Hand in hand they splashed through the shallow waves that caressed the sand with delicate strokes. Moonlight turned the flying water into sprays of pearls.

They romped along the shore, chasing the hissing foam as it retreated into the sea then turning to race ahead of the next breaker as the wreaths of white froth licked at their heels, giggling and yelping when it caught them. Elizabeth broke away from Will, daring to follow the withdrawing seas too far, shrieking with mock terror as the returning low roar of water caught at her legs, tangling her attempts to flee. Finally, the inevitable happened. Elizabeth turned too late and the moonlit curl of a breaker swept her down, laughing, into its embrace.

She regained her feet before Will could plunge to her rescue, but the sight of her rising from the gem-encrusted clash of waves, halted him as though he were suddenly anchored. Elizabeth seemed a spirit of the sea, shimmering with cascades of salt water, her hair wet and curling like tendrils of seaweed over her shoulders, the strings of tiny cowries glinting at her throat and wrists, her eyes like starlight on water, her body limned with silver. Her delighted laugh rang like the peal of bells. Will’s breath caught reverently.

He was irresistibly drawn to her side, joining her in the muted thunder of the breaking water, reaching out his hands to her shoulders, bracing with her against the ceaselessly breathing waves. They stood so close Will could see the water droplets glittering on Elizabeth’s eyelashes, could feel her breath against his skin.

The night enfolded them in warm velvet spangled with diamonds.

There are moments in life when everything changes—when the universe flips, reverses itself, turns inside out—and when the soul finally ceases reeling and staggers upright, nothing is ever the same again. That night Will Turner’s universe changed.

He had always known that Elizabeth was important to him, that she was his dearest friend, that life without her would be intolerably barren and desolate. But as the warmth of her flesh burned him through the fabric of her gown, as he looked into her exquisite, delicate face, he knew, with a thunderclap of dizzying desire that was more like pain than anything he had ever experienced before in his life, that he loved Elizabeth Swann. Loved her with a passion that terrified him even as it exalted him.

His hand rose without his volition, tracing the fine curve of her cheek, not quite touching. Elizabeth’s eyes met his, large and full of night. The expression in them, allure and mystery and promise, sent a shiver through him. No walls stood between them now. Her lips parted. Her head tilted up towards him, all trust and dawning realization. For one breathless moment a newborn kiss hovered in the air between them. Impossible futures swept around them on wings of fire.

And then reality, kept at bay in the dark, latched its teeth into Will’s throat. He froze in horror. What in hell did he think he was doing?

He might have managed to fool himself into believing that nothing separated them for this one day, but the truth blazed cold and harsh, chasing away the shadows of all dreams. Elizabeth was the governor’s daughter. He, Will Turner, was merely the orphaned son of a merchant seaman, a blacksmith’s apprentice. There could never be anything like love between them.

He would be a cad of the most despicable sort to compromise this innocent girl now, to awaken her to something so utterly doomed, to deliver her up to her luminous future anything less than heart-whole for the man she would one day love and marry.

He had been criminally irresponsible to have allowed their adventure to reach such a point.

Letting both hands fall in fists to his side, Will summoned all the steel in his soul to say lightly to Elizabeth, “We should go back to Estrella now. She may be worried, and I need to get you home before your father ignores my message and rouses the entire fort to hunt us down.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in confusion. She shivered in on herself as he pulled away. Will longed to put his arms around her, to reassure her that everything between them would be all right. But he knew it would not. Almost angrily, he tore himself from her side and set off at a bruising pace for the shore and the firelight.

“Will?” Elizabeth called. Slowly she followed his footprints, placing her own directly on top of his, matching his long stride. An hour earlier she would have run after him, coaxing him into a merrier temper. Now she hung back, reluctant and awkward, unsure of her own feelings. Something indefinable had changed.

The barrier between them had been imaginary before. Suddenly it was real.

* * * * *

Estrella awoke in startled disorientation. The dark was filled with strange odours and wild, frightening sounds. Where was she? What had happened? She remembered being sick and drinking some potion. What had been in that drink?

Elizabeth! Struggling to her feet, Estrella stumbled about in the dark, knocking into unfamiliar objects. If anything had happened to Elizabeth . . .

Finally, she recognized the flickering light as the doorway. Rushing to its opening, she stared out in shock at the twisting, writhing mass of dark bodies, the fearful crackle of flames. The disturbing throb of drums set her nerves on edge. Frantically she searched the crowd for a golden brown head. Just as she was about to panic, she saw Will Turner making his way towards her; Elizabeth, thank God, was trailing along in his wake. The two of them looked wet and rather shaken, but they were unharmed. Estrella began to breathe again. Forget counting additional gray hairs, she sighed. After today, she’d surely have white hair. What would the governor say when they returned?

* * * * *

Will moved through the farewells in a fog of half-comprehension. Estrella’s shrill, worried relief and scolding. His friends’ boisterous good wishes. The realization that rum was becoming a more significant part of the festivities and that soon it would not be safe for Elizabeth to be here. Finding the cart he’d arranged to carry them back to Port Royal. Through it all, he did not go near Elizabeth, although she was the only person of whom he was absolutely aware, as though every move she made, every look, every texture of her, resonated in his own body.

She hugged her new friends, accepted the small gifts of flowers and shells with enthusiasm, collected her discarded shoes and stockings, and finally allowed herself to be bundled reluctantly into the cart, waving until they rounded a curve in the road.

The rest of the journey they completed in silence. Elizabeth curled up on the straw and closed her eyes. But somehow Will knew she was not asleep. With all that jolting, sleep was certainly impossible for him. He stared instead into the dark night with burning eyes.

When the cart finally creaked to a halt in front of the gate to the governor’s mansion, Will helped Estrella and then Elizabeth down. Estrella made as if to hurry Elizabeth through the gate, but the girl hung back obstinately.

“I need to say good-bye to Will,” she insisted. And when Estrella merely paused beside her, waiting, she added firmly, “Alone.”

Estrella looked from Will’s drawn face to Elizabeth’s resolute one and withdrew without demur to where she could see the two of them but not hear what passed between them.

“You know that I am going away?” Elizabeth asked.

“I know,” Will said. “Your father told me.”

The shadows of the night hid his expression.

“I shall be returning to work tomorrow,” he finally said. “The doctor has said I may, if I don’t overexert myself.”

“Oh,” said Elizabeth. “That will be good for you.”

“Yes.”

Elizabeth hesitated, then added, “I shall miss seeing you.”

“Yes.”

Several awkward moments stretched out into silent eternity.

“One season.” Elizabeth broke the silence, determination lifting her chin. “I have informed my father that I will not stay on that pestilential plantation for more than one season. If I can learn to pass for a lady and then do my duty by society, perhaps . . . ” Her voice trailed off.

They both knew there would be no end of duty for the governor’s daughter. That she must always and forever pass for a lady.

“I’m sorry,” Will said helplessly.

As though unwilling to trust her voice, Elizabeth nodded and blinked fiercely. She raised her head in her indomitable way, as though this were a battle she must fight until the bitter end.

Dear God, how much he loved her. The strength of that emotion terrified him.

They stood on the hard-packed road, reluctant to part, no longer the two children who had met on that same road that morning. Something precious had ended this day, and it seemed impossibly hard not to linger until something new could be forged.

“I had a lovely time,” Elizabeth said softly, shy in his presence as she had never been before.

“I did too,” Will said around his constricted throat.

Elizabeth looked up at him, her moonlit eyes uncertain.

How he longed to remove that uncertainty. To let her know what this last day would always mean to him. But honour sealed his lips. Instead he forced the words he had known he must say since he had spoken with her father. “Good-bye, Miss Swann.”

The hurt in her eyes as that wall of formality slid back into place impaled him like steel through his chest. He hadn’t known how much this moment would cost him. He did not know whether he had the courage to pay its price.

He forced himself to continue. “Thank you so much for your kindness.”

Elizabeth flinched as though he had struck her. This time, she did not insist that he call her by name.

“Good-bye, Will,” she whispered. And then she fled to where Estrella waited in the darkness.

* * * * *

Will did not return to the smithy. He spent the night high on the promontory overlooking the harbour, watching the silver path of the moon travel across the sea. Finally, it slipped over the horizon, leaving relentless black. Now he could never set foot on it to find his heart’s desire, nor anyone that he had lost. Will remained motionless, arms wrapped around his knees, and watched until each star grew faint and quenched its light in the merciless tide of dawn. Slowly, stiffly, he arose and set his face away from the sea, back to Port Royal, to the cold forge and to the empty shop.

TBC
Ch. 3: Canticle for a Blacksmith, Part 7

Date: 2006-01-29 03:28 pm (UTC)
ext_15536: Fuschias by Geek Mama (Pirate Will by ashleygaea)
From: [identity profile] geekmama.livejournal.com
One thing I love about this story is that you make me see both Will and Elizabeth, in the deepest sense of the word. Which is, of course, the object in a novelization.

The last words of the chapter are truly heartbreaking...

...he arose and set his face away from the sea, back to Port Royal, to the cold forge and to the empty shop.

Poor Will. Thank goodness we know there are miracles in store for him.

Date: 2006-01-29 03:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
*bounce* Thank you for dropping by to comment. The funny thing about this back story is that I had to write it so that I could see Will and Elizabeth. In order for their actions and responses in the movie to be comprehensible to me, I had to know where they were coming from.

Yes, in the end Will turns away from everyone that he loves and returns to his duty. There is a desolation about Will's life at the beginning of the movie that is indeed heart-breaking.

Thankfully, there are miracles for Will, because Ted and Terry are in charge of his life rather than people who want to give Elizabeth to Jack or James! Although I have enjoyed those versions myself.

Date: 2006-01-29 03:51 pm (UTC)
ext_15536: Fuschias by Geek Mama (E & W)
From: [identity profile] geekmama.livejournal.com
Thankfully, there are miracles for Will, because Ted and Terry are in charge of his life rather than people who want to give Elizabeth to Jack or James!

Your story not only clarifies their individual characters, but tells us how and why their passionate devotion arose. There wasn't time to do that in the movie, so their obsession seems almost nonsensical at times. But I think that's the key to making the audience prefer them as a couple, rather than J/E or N/E.

Date: 2006-01-30 03:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
I basically worked from the premise that everything in the movie, which was definitely a Will/Elizabeth universe, made perfect sense. So I just had to decide why. There are clues throughout the movie--looks, reactions, actions. Even without this backstory that moment when Elizabeth has the "cheesy hero line" and Will lets her take out after the pirates ahead of him cemented why I prefered Will for Elizabeth. But then that's the sort of relationship I prefer. Also, I work with people that age all the time, so I guess they make sense to me.

Date: 2006-01-30 12:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] veronica-rich.livejournal.com
Ah, but the differences being:

1. I don't "give" Elizabeth to James - in my ficverse, he has to work for her after all. And she has to want it.

2. There are still miracles for Will, even though Elizabeth being his wife is not one of them. (I'd say Jack's sort of a walking miracle in himself, wouldn't you? *G*)

Date: 2006-01-30 04:08 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] classics-lover.livejournal.com
So you write Norribeth, then? Could you give me titles? I'm a hopeless romantic when it comes to James Norrington.

Date: 2006-01-31 02:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] veronica-rich.livejournal.com
Ah, no. Sorry about that - I'm referring more to what goes on on the sidelines of the stories I *do* write, which are about Jack and Will....

Date: 2006-01-29 07:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ref-1985.livejournal.com
That was beautiful - you are a writing genius.

Date: 2006-01-30 02:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm glad you've enjoyed this.

Date: 2006-01-30 04:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] classics-lover.livejournal.com
Fabulous. This backstory really fills the gaps. And I love poor, mistreated Estrella! :-)

I'm sorry I didn't comment on part 6a, but real life got in the way. May I just say: Estrella's seasickness had me in fits of laughter (I'm evil, I know).

As for this part:

The beach and the sea are extraordinary forces for romance here, and I'm impressed by Will's self-control in the face of overwhelming emotion. It really informs on the beginning of the movie.
And I got an amazing vibe from your passage about the wild, almost tribal music and its effect on Will and Elizabeth. Powerful stuff.

And I do love Will saving Elizabeth from herself when the rum is passed around! ;-) Pity he wasn't on the island with Jack and herself to see that she CAN hold her drink! ;-) Not to mention teaching the slaves the pirate song! That's just so... her.

Elizabeth's obliviousness of class differences is also very true to form, and beautifully expressed here. It's a pity there wasn't a moment like this in the movie to show just how little class difference really means to her.

I'm sorry to only mention such small moments, but these parts really stand out in an outstanding piece of writing.

Date: 2006-01-30 06:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
Thank you for the lovely detailed comments. I'm glad you're enjoying the backstory. Poor Estrella--her misery entertains us.

Will struck me as a great over-stressed bundle of self-control at the beginning of the movie. He can't afford to let go. I patterned his experience on that of a friend of mine. There are guys who don't take advantage even now!

I think Jack would be more likely to tell Will that Elizabeth is quite as deadly as he might fear with a little rum in her! I liked the idea of that song showing up before the movie :D

As for Elizabeth's class consciousness, she certainly seems oblivious to the gap between her and Will! And she manifestly doesn't share her father's and the commodore's attitudes towards scruffy strangers.

I'm delighted to hear which parts of this struck you. Thank you again for the feedback.

Date: 2006-01-30 06:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] thekestrel.livejournal.com
The Governer shouldn't worry about the influence of low company on his daughter, but her's on them. Oh God that was rich! LOL out riotously loud. :) Yet, Will is the only one that realizes that this truly is that last day, of his and Elizabeth's childhood. And worse it was Will that had to slam the door, on loves first glimpse. I had tears in my eyes first from laughter, now from heart break. God, I'm glad I know Will gets his Elizabeth - or as Jack would say - Elizabeth got Will. Love your stuff and I'm saving each and every story.

Date: 2006-01-30 06:47 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
It's great to hear from you. I do appreciate your comments. Elizabeth does seem to rival everyone but Jack for sheer willingness to get into trouble. I'm glad she gave you a laugh.

Will is the one who has to be more aware of the precarious nature of their relationship--his is not a position of power in her society. I felt there needed to be those moments where Will doesn't tell Elizabeth he loves her to account for his statement that he should have done so. This would be a very tragic tale if we didn't know the two of them will get each other in the end.

I'm honoured that you're saving these. Thank you so much.

Date: 2006-02-06 08:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] virgo-79.livejournal.com
I was goingto reply tothis at BPS, but I lost the post and got frustrated trying to track it down, so I decided to save time and come here. :)


Outside in the bright sunlight, Elizabeth whispered to Will, “Did we just drug our chaperone?”

“I don’t know,” Will shrugged. “Maybe."

This is possibly the most pee-my-pants funny line I've read all. Month. Long. (Isn't it nice to have such classy reviews on your lj?)It's particularly funny coming out of Will's mouth.

I love his next choice of outing for them. *This* is a party.

Will shook his head. “I don’t think he does it to be nice. It diffuses some of the resentment. Keeps it from blowing up. Imagine how you’d feel if you could never do anything you wanted to do. Ever.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth looked subdued.

That hit close to home. And I suspect when her time being trained as a young lady is through, Elizabeth will appreciate the implications even more.

Will watched her go with a smile of his own. This was what he admired about Elizabeth. Not that she consciously condescended to associate with the lower classes, but that she seemed truly oblivious to social barriers. He’d seen her retreat to high society airs, come the grand lady with intent, but only as a weapon—not because she believed it her right, but because she could use it and had need of it. Here among these people who were considered little better than animals by many, and who were often treated worse, Elizabeth seemed unaware of the vast gulf that lay between them.

This is definitely one of the greatest strengths of Elizabeth's character, and it goes to show how true Will's love for her really is, IMO, that he sees it and values that quality so highly.

Okay, I'm going to do the split-review thing now, 'cause I got scolded by lj last time for making it too long. TBC...

Date: 2006-02-06 08:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
Squeeeeeee! A [livejournal.com profile] virgo_79 comment! Welcome to my lj! I love BPS but it does make the finding of back posts an exercise in endurance and a quick eye--although sometimes the "Search" function will work.

This is possibly the most pee-my-pants funny line I've read all. Month. Long. (Isn't it nice to have such classy reviews on your lj?)It's particularly funny coming out of Will's mouth.

Just one thing I must make clear: I don't do laundry. As Elizabeth would say, class is highly over-rated. I'm glad to provide such aerobic humour. Yes, Will is a long way off his leash tonight.

That hit close to home. And I suspect when her time being trained as a young lady is through, Elizabeth will appreciate the implications even more.

Yes, there is a similarity in their situations. When reform came, it was actually illegal to beat a slave before it was illegal to beat a wife! Elizabeth will be getting up to some proto-abolitionist trouble on St. Kitts, I'm afraid. The girl who can't fathom why she shouldn't associate with or love a blacksmith, who defends a pirate, and who couldn't care less about who sees her wearing what, is not the kind of person I could see hanging on to senseless attitudes of class.

Wheeeeeee! Off to the next post. You're like crack for an author you know.

Date: 2006-02-06 08:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] virgo-79.livejournal.com
If there was a young lady inside there, it wasn’t showing on the outside.

Hee. Don't worry, Will, there isn't.


He began to feel some fellow feeling with her father when he had to rescue Elizabeth from being plied with rum.

“You don’t want to be drinking that!” Will whisked the bottle out of her hands.

I think Elizabeth would be a scary drunk. We saw her play at it in the film, but that doesn't count. I don't think I'd let her near sharp things when she'd had one too many. Somebody would get hurt, and I don't think it would be her. :)

Gradually voices raised in song. It was a song of impossible grief combined with a joy in life that resonated with Will as though these men and women, who’d lost their homes and families and freedom, had read his heart and set his pain to rhythm and music.

I love this. Will's so far from being the "stick" Gibbs eventually dubs him, and this is the proof.

And while I won't quote the whole thing for fear of squandering my space, I really like your descriptions of Will and Elizabeth's dance, and their walk. You had me wondering for a minute or two how far things were actually going to go, and I knew damn well they weren't going anywhere at this point, so nicely done job of getting them -- and me -- caught up in the wildness of the place and the moment. This is what the two of them are meant to be. They just have to wait a while to realize it.

They romped along the shore, chasing the hissing foam as it retreated into the sea then turning to race ahead of the next breaker as the wreaths of white froth licked at their heels, giggling and yelping when it caught them. Elizabeth broke away from Will, daring to follow the withdrawing seas too far, shrieking with mock terror as the returning low roar of water caught at her legs, tangling her attempts to flee. Finally, the inevitable happened. Elizabeth turned too late and the moonlit curl of a breaker swept her down, laughing, into its embrace.

She regained her feet before Will could plunge to her rescue, but the sight of her rising from the gem-encrusted clash of waves, halted him as though he were suddenly anchored. Elizabeth seemed a spirit of the sea, shimmering with cascades of salt water, her hair wet and curling like tendrils of seaweed over her shoulders, the strings of tiny cowries glinting at her throat and wrists, her eyes like starlight on water, her body limned with silver. Her delighted laugh rang like the peal of bells. Will’s breath caught reverently.

Okay, forget what I said about not quoting. I'll break this sucker into three parts if I have to. This part is just beautifully done. I love how you've again showcased Elizabeth in her element, which I firmly believe the ocean is, only this time in a way that's a little more primal. It's so fitting that this should be that snapshot moment of Elizabeth when Will goes from just loving her to being in love with her. And as chaste as this whole situation remains in action, it's very sensual in feeling.

“Do you see the path the moon makes on the water?” Elizabeth asked.

“I always used to wish I could walk across it,” Will answered.

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “I used to pretend that it was a bridge that led to a wonderful country where all my wishes would come true.” She paused for a moment. “Sometimes I imagined that my mother would be there—if I could just find a way across.”

“I once thought that was the way my father had gone,” Will looked down at the sand.

And, every hair on my arms and neck just stood straight up. The thought is just beautiful and amazing as a child's imagining in and of itself, but then when you stop and think about what really happened to Bill, the parallel between the truth and Will's fantasy is chilling. Bill *was* taken by moonlight and seawater.

I actually am going to cut this part off again, because I don't know how close to the end of my reply space I'm coming. **grumblegrumble**

I'm not through with you yet, girl!

Date: 2006-02-06 10:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
Mmmmmmmmm. More comment. You are a wonder!

If there was a young lady inside there, it wasn’t showing on the outside.
Hee. Don't worry, Will, there isn't.

The lady is pretty superficial in Elizabeth, for which Will is lucky. :D

I think Elizabeth would be a scary drunk. We saw her play at it in the film, but that doesn't count. I don't think I'd let her near sharp things when she'd had one too many. Somebody would get hurt, and I don't think it would be her.

I think Jack would be of the opinion that Elizabeth was quite the scary drunk even in the movie. LOL. After all, she blew up his rum!

I love this. Will's so far from being the "stick" Gibbs eventually dubs him, and this is the proof.

Will's "stickishness" is like Elizabeth's "ladylikeness"--a protective covering. But that blood of a pirate runs beneath the surface.

You had me wondering for a minute or two how far things were actually going to go, and I knew damn well they weren't going anywhere at this point, so nicely done job of getting them -- and me -- caught up in the wildness of the place and the moment. This is what the two of them are meant to be. They just have to wait a while to realize it.

I wanted to give Will and Elizabeth something to rival the island scene with Jack in the movie. And I wanted to explore why they are so passionately devoted to each other in the movie. I'm glad this kept you suspending your knowledge of what had to happen. I wanted to push them right to the edge and then frustrate eachother and everybody else by pulling back. This is what they will be some day.

This part is just beautifully done. I love how you've again showcased Elizabeth in her element, which I firmly believe the ocean is, only this time in a way that's a little more primal. It's so fitting that this should be that snapshot moment of Elizabeth when Will goes from just loving her to being in love with her. And as chaste as this whole situation remains in action, it's very sensual in feeling.

I'm glad you liked the description. Playing in the surf is one of my favourite things to do along the ocean, so it was fun to try to capture that experience in words. That picture of Elizabeth is very similar to the one I wrote of Jack in "Marooned." Peas in a pod, of course. Will has to be the one to appreciate this wild part of her for him to be the right man for her. I was trying to make this whole scene a bit of sensory overload.

“I once thought that was the way my father had gone,” Will looked down at the sand.

And, every hair on my arms and neck just stood straight up. The thought is just beautiful and amazing as a child's imagining in and of itself, but then when you stop and think about what really happened to Bill, the parallel between the truth and Will's fantasy is chilling. Bill *was* taken by moonlight and seawater.


One's true love should be someone one can talk to about things never told to anyone else, so I wanted to give Will and Elizabeth a moment of opening their souls a little to each other. There is an uncanny echo of what happened to Will's father. Goosebumps are a great vote of confidence. I've written Will as being a little torn about his father, hovering between love and resentment. Jack's revelation about his father's occupation and Pintel's explanation of his father's fate seem so difficult for Will. I imagine his meeting with his father is going to be a fairly intensely emotionally torn one.

I'm not through with you yet, girl!

Oooh! Threats of violence! Bring it on! (And thank you so much!)

Date: 2006-03-24 12:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hendercats.livejournal.com
Will's "stickishness" is like Elizabeth's "ladylikeness"--a protective covering.
(pardon me whilst I have a small epiphany)
Even listening to Orlando talk about how Will is corseted with the uptight attitude at the beginning of the movie, it never occurred to me until just now that his "stickishness" was not inherent in his nature, but rather something he put on (or society put on him by way of the demands of class distinction) just as Elizabeth put on/was laced into her corset.

Duh.
Okay, so I can be slow.

Date: 2006-03-24 01:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
Epiphanies R Us! Get your epiphany while you wait! One of the fun things about writing this backstory, which has been, for me, simply a way of exploring what I saw in the character in the movie, is how many people find a new appreciation for Will and the powerful social and personal constraints by which he is chained. I remember talking to a man who had a terrible time expressing any feelings and who was a control freak. When he was a child, he was visiting his grandparents when a hurricane hit his island. His entire family--parents and siblings--were killed. Only he survived. And that impervious surface was just that--a surface that kept the emotions bottled inside from disintegrating him. He needed the control to forget how helpless he really was. They didn't have psychiatrists to help people with Will's traumatic life. He was just expected to cope. Abandoned by your father? Watch your mother die? See pirates brutally destroy an entire ship of people you know? Deal with it! Oh, and forget personal happiness and free choice. You are a pawn on the chessboard of life. You have no business trying to take the queen. No wonder Will starts the movie trying so hard to be perfect, to meet everyone's expectations, to empty himself of self completely. No wonder he has no idea what to do with his emotions when they do escape! So the kid goes off half cocked. He's had no practice at that kind of thing! I can't wait to see where the next movies take Will.

Date: 2006-02-06 09:39 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] virgo-79.livejournal.com
He paused a moment, reflecting with a private grin that Elizabeth was surely the only young lady who, instead of looking disgusted at the idea of a talent for spitting, would look intrigued. Best not even let her get started with that idea.

Poor, poor Lady Ingleham.

“She was all the light and life in our house,” Elizabeth went on. “I don’t think the sun ever shone again in England after she died. I only remember rain or sleet or snow. I think my father accepted the post of governor here just to get away from that empty house and gray sky.”

I like this. Very sad, but very much the way a child would remember things.

His hand rose without his volition, tracing the fine curve of her cheek, not quite touching. Elizabeth’s eyes met his, large and full of night. The expression in them, allure and mystery and promise, sent a shiver through him. No walls stood between them now. Her lips parted. Her head tilted up towards him, all trust and dawning realization. For one breathless moment a newborn kiss hovered in the air between them. Impossible futures swept around them on wings of fire.

And then reality, kept at bay in the dark, latched its teeth into Will’s throat. He froze in horror. What in hell did he think he was doing?

AGGGGHH! Son of a...

In all seriousness, this just *hurts*. And that's one hell of a metaphor, with the teeth. Very nice. In a cruel, horrible, right-between-the-eyes kind of way.

“Will?” Elizabeth called. Slowly she followed his footprints, placing her own directly on top of his, matching his long stride.

Ohhh. This image breaks my heart. This is the closest she can come to touching him now.

She hugged her new friends, accepted the small gifts of flowers and shells with enthusiasm, collected her discarded shoes and stockings, and finally allowed herself to be bundled reluctantly into the cart, waving until they rounded a curve in the road.

Somehow, I have a feeling all those little trinkets are stashed away in her room somewhere, like a certain medallion. I think she should wear cowrie shells on her wedding day.

They stood on the hard-packed road, reluctant to part, no longer the two children who had met on that same road that morning. Something precious had ended this day, and it seemed impossibly hard not to linger until something new could be forged.

Ouch. *Ouch*, honorat. Exquisite telling of an absolutely gut-twisting moment.

How he longed to remove that uncertainty. To let her know what this last day would always mean to him. But honour sealed his lips. Instead he forced the words he had known he must say since he had spoken with her father. “Good-bye, Miss Swann.”

The hurt in her eyes as that wall of formality slid back into place impaled him like steel through his chest. He hadn’t known how much this moment would cost him. He did not know whether he had the courage to pay its price.

He forced himself to continue. “Thank you so much for your kindness.”

Elizabeth flinched as though he had struck her. This time, she did not insist that he call her by name.

“Good-bye, Will,” she whispered. And then she fled to where Estrella waited in the darkness.

Yeah, mind you don't step on my crushed, bloody heart where it's lying on the freakin' floor, 'kay?

Will did not return to the smithy. He spent the night high on the promontory overlooking the harbour, watching the silver path of the moon travel across the sea. Finally, it slipped over the horizon, leaving relentless black. Now he could never set foot on it to find his heart’s desire, nor anyone that he had lost.

And once more with the goosebumps.

Slowly, stiffly, he arose and set his face away from the sea, back to Port Royal, to the cold forge and to the empty shop.

Ahh, careful, Will. Never a good idea to turn your back on the sea.

This was excellent, honorat, and I apologize for taking so long to get my feedback for it posted. I've gotten waaaay behind in all my reviewing, and I find myself catching up in fits and starts.

Date: 2006-02-06 10:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
More comment! My muse is a basket case--can't get its head through the door anymore!

Poor, poor Lady Ingleham.

She freckles, she spits, she won't wear her hat, she talks to the help, she shoots and she swims and she sails and she swears--now make THAT into a lady!

Very sad, but very much the way a child would remember things.

Memory can be exceedingly selective and creative. No two people every remember an event the same. So Elizabeth becomes the purveyor of the affective fallacy--the universe shares her feelings.

And then reality, kept at bay in the dark, latched its teeth into Will’s throat. He froze in horror. What in hell did he think he was doing?

AGGGGHH! Son of a...

In all seriousness, this just *hurts*. And that's one hell of a metaphor, with the teeth. Very nice. In a cruel, horrible, right-between-the-eyes kind of way.


Coitus interuptus--or the next best thing. Build that crescendo and then cut everything off. *hands out analgesics* For some reason, I always find kisses that don't quite happen incredibly romantic. Poor Will. How the story might have changed had he gone ahead and kissed her! But life has a way of throttling Will Turner, until Jack comes along and shows him how one can throttle life right back.

Slowly she followed his footprints, placing her own directly on top of his, matching his long stride.

Ohhh. This image breaks my heart. This is the closest she can come to touching him now.


I poured a lot of high school memories into the angst in this thing! She's not quite as aware as Will of what went on between them, but she knows she's lost something.

Somehow, I have a feeling all those little trinkets are stashed away in her room somewhere, like a certain medallion. I think she should wear cowrie shells on her wedding day.

What a lovely idea! Hmmmmmm. *pets the plot bunny*

Something precious had ended this day, and it seemed impossibly hard not to linger until something new could be forged.

Ouch. *Ouch*, honorat. Exquisite telling of an absolutely gut-twisting moment.


That moment when friendship becomes something more is such a fragile thing-- the possibility of love weighed against the possibility that the pressure will break the friendship. Will can't go back to just being friends, nor is he allowed to try to make their relationship more.

Yeah, mind you don't step on my crushed, bloody heart where it's lying on the freakin' floor, 'kay?

*Steps carefully around virgo's heart* Just sayin'--I don't do floors, either.

Now he could never set foot on it to find his heart’s desire, nor anyone that he had lost.

And once more with the goosebumps.

Slowly, stiffly, he arose and set his face away from the sea, back to Port Royal, to the cold forge and to the empty shop.

Ahh, careful, Will. Never a good idea to turn your back on the sea.


Will has lost so much in his life. It is entirely chilling to contemplate. But the sea will sneak up on him in the person of one scruffy pirate and one bonnie lass.

Thank you soooooooo much for troubling to review this in such detail. *bounces about insanely* (I shouldn't do that at work). I know what you mean about being behind--I've got a huge pile of feedback to do myself, but I shall get to your marvelous story today, I promise. *drools over new Jack and Bill story*









Date: 2006-02-07 08:07 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] virgo-79.livejournal.com
"She freckles, she spits, she won't wear her hat, she talks to the help, she shoots and she swims and she sails and she swears--now make THAT into a lady!"

LMAO! That ought to be her debutante introduction.

"But life has a way of throttling Will Turner, until Jack comes along and shows him how one can throttle life right back."

Hah! A little chaos is a liberating thing. I am sooo looking forward to their meeting in your story.

While I'm gabbin' at you here, I have a technical question. How the smelly heck do you get your itallics to show up here? I tried to use the rich text option, doing a cut-and-paste into that from my Word document, but when I previewed it, I had my disclaimer, and then a big error message. I would *really* like to avoid having to go through each document and put the html tags on every single word, line, or paragraph I need them on, but evidently I'm doing something wrong with rich text. (I ask mainly because I'd like to start putting The Weight of Water on my lj.)

Date: 2006-02-07 10:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
I'm looking forward to introducing Will to Jack, too. I don't know what will happen--except of course for the action and dialogue.

I'm afraid I put my itallics in with the html codes while I'm editing the text in lj. For the same words such as the "Black Pearl", I'll copy and paste the whole string throughout the text. For the rest, I copy and paste the opening code throughout and then copy and paste the closing code throughout so at least I don't have to type them out each time. I've never had any luck using rich text either.

So *pounces on you expectantly* Any more "Weight of Water" on its way?

Date: 2006-02-07 11:09 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] virgo-79.livejournal.com
All right then. Tags it'll be. More time staring at the screen than I was hoping for, but at least I know I'm not alone where the rich text is concerned -- or, you know, utterly stupid.

TWoW is progressing. At this very moment, Wetherby Swann is discovering exactly how much of a common ground he has with a raging, murderous pirate. :)

Oh, I have another question for you. Actually, this is more of a humble, groveling request -- but I'm going to qualify it beforehand by saying that if you're not into the idea, or if you're too busy with your own projects, that's cool and I completely understand. But I have to ask anyway.

You know how your art just kicks ten kinds of butt, and I love it and adore it and want more and more and more of it? (I have more butter here, if it's required.) I was wondering if I might beg and badger and bribe you to -- at any point in the immediate or even the not-so-immediate future -- to draw my "Salvage" mermaid. I just have this fascination to see her from your pencil (or your anything else).

I actually only have her in my imagination in bits and glimpses; she's been sort of the thing under the bed, so I haven't given her a real face. I have this image of how she moves (kind of this melding of Medusa from Clash of the Titans and Kayoko from The Grudge), and I have certain bits and pieces of her, but that's it.

Anyway, as I said...I still fling soggy tissues affectionately at your angst whether you want to or not. :)

Date: 2006-02-08 02:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
Computers are run by cats--they do what they want, when they want.

Whoohoo! More TWotW on the way with more of your wonderful Governor Swann! Yay!

As for illustrating your beastie, I'd be happy to. I haven't done any imaginary critters for someone else, so I don't know if it's possible to match another person's vision. I'd want to discuss what you wanted in the picture.

Since I'm so culturally illiterate I hadn't seen either of the two sources you've mentioned. I googled them and saw a little of what they looked like. Are you wanting something more humanoid or monstrous? Beautiful or hideous or both? In the water or coming onto a ship? Alone or with other characters? The full body or just a three-quarter length shot?

Let me know what would you'd want and I'll give it a shot.

*Pick's soggy tissue off the porch* You've got really good aim.

Date: 2006-02-14 03:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] virgo-79.livejournal.com
Sorry I took so long to get back to you on this, honorat.

**does happy dance** woo hoo! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!

As for having her in or out of the water...I've been picturing her on the ship, but that isn't carved in stone, if you find one way works better than the other. I keep going back to an image of her crawling down a corridor, coming *towards* the viewer, or coming up a ladder or steps from a lower level of the ship.

The two examples I tossed out there for how I envision her moving each work for different positioning, and again, if you have a notion of which will work better, I'll yield to your knowledge. When she's on her belly, she moves in this horrible sort of lurching slither, but she can rise upright, almost cobra-like, tail kind of curled or coiled underneath her.

The single most vivid physical characteristic I've pictured is the hands: webbed, fingers very long and clawed.

The torso, skull shape, and hair are all human. The eyes...I'm not sure if it would be more frightening if they're human, or something else. I'd thought about shark''s eyes at one point, but I wonder if she might be more terrifying with eyes that gave her more of a sense of awareness, of intelligence. (The old faithful slit-pupil design never fails to instill a great sense of creepiness in me. Ever seen Critters? The scene where the woman is looking out her dark kitchen window and those little red eyes come up right on the other side of the glass scared the everloving hell out of me. I kid you not, I wouldn't look out my bedroom window at nighttime for a bloody *month*. Stop laughing.)

Or, she might look scariest with eyes that are human, or very nearly human. It might make what *wasn't* look all the more alien and horrible.

And then of course, there are the teeth, should you decide to flash them. She has a shark's teeth in a human's mouth. Wow, let me rephrase that, because I just pictured something resembling a really nightmarish French kiss. She has a shark's teeth in a human-*shaped* mouth.

I hope somewhere in all this babbling there are some things that are actually useful. And my intention wasn't to overload you with details, either. These are the elements I've attributed to her in my imagination, but you know better than me what will work as you lay it down on the page.Add or subtract as need demands. :)

Thank you again, honorat! I'm tickled you want to do this.

Date: 2006-03-08 10:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
Just a note to let you know I haven't forgotten this. I've done a sketch or two, but I need to find a background picture to work with. I have no talent for imagining non-organic things and must have pictures to go on. RL has been a bit hectic lately, so art has suffered.

Date: 2006-03-24 12:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hendercats.livejournal.com
However, Elizabeth, who had presided at her father's table for several years now, was completely equal to an awkward social situation. Holding out her hands, she smiled.
And of course our Elizabeth would use that upper class knowledge in a way that would have been completely foreign - unthinkable - to those who taught her!

Elizabeth and her pirate song.
Yay!!

To move, unfettered, frantic as though he were escaping everything, even his own thoughts, was an almost painful respite.
I love how this so thoroughly captures Will and his frustrations. Also, there's something about dancing (with much abandon) in the Caribbean night that pulls at me just as strongly as the gilded light images (below).

She seemed to become music and incarnate fire...
And if he'd ever had any will to resist, it would have been all over in this instant. Adore this whole paragraph - 'tis another one of those gorgeous light paintings!

I love Elizabeth the sea spirit! How beautiful! (Whew! Some heady stuff there.)

tracing the fine curve of her cheek, not quite touching.... He had been criminally irresponsible to have allowed their adventure to reach such a point.
Did I actually think for a minute that you would be able to warp canon just enough to let him kiss her? Well, no. But still, when he pulls back, it's just crushing!

All the fire, forge and steel images surrounding their strained leave-taking are a delight - little nuggets to be savored. That wall falling into place between them, incredibly huge and heavy so that this time, even Elizabeth sees that it's real (though she wants to deny it) ... *waaaaah* As GM said, good thing we know what's in store for them.

See from flist this a.m. that you've posted more of Crossing the Bar (yay!!!) - gives me new determination to get caught up.

Date: 2006-03-24 02:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
Ooooh! My muse is all dazzled by the pretty comment! Thank you so much.

Elizabeth would use that upper class knowledge in a way that would have been completely foreign - unthinkable - to those who taught her
Of course! Elizabeth is such a fiery character--everything is a weapon for her.

Elizabeth and her pirate song. Yay!!
Couldn't resist, mate!

I'm so glad you liked the dance. I wanted Will and Elizabeth to have this moment of complete abandon together, a time for all masks and shells and chains to be laid aside and for them to really see each other. They scarcely meet in the movie, but I wanted them to have a past that made their love seem logical.

Light is such a magical thing. Just wait until I do Elizabeth's memories of Will during this dance! No wonder she doesn't fall for her cotillion beaus!

Elizabeth is such a gifted sailor and she has the unusual talent of being able to swim. I thought that the sea must be a passion for such a girl. And I wanted Will to be the one to really appreciate that in her. Like the sea, Elizabeth will be Will's freedom.

No kiss yet! I've never believed any fics that had them kiss before the movie. Will the repressed?! Elizabeth the oblivious?! Right. People didn't just premaritally snog back then unless they were consciously misbehaving--and that is definitely not a part of Will's character. I'm glad you found that "What if" moment believable and crushing.

the fire, forge and steel images
I can never resist a good metaphor, so I hope I can keep doing it without sounding repetitious. Will and Elizabeth have equal parts passion and painful seperation in the movie. This chapter was my picture of the foundation for that emotional cocktail we are served in the movie. There's so much tension in their meeting in that first scene. It is a good thing we know it all turns out. :D

Thank you again for such a lovely and detail comment. It's always a joy to hear from you.

I have several updates for Crossing nearly ready to go--can't catch me, I a fanfic writer! LOL!

Date: 2006-03-25 01:09 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hendercats.livejournal.com
Just wait until I do Elizabeth's memories of Will during this dance!
(wailing:) Wait? I have to wait???
*consoles self by scuttling off to read 3.7 of Worthy*

Date: 2006-09-14 04:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] myystic.livejournal.com
This was what he admired about Elizabeth. Not that she consciously condescended to associate with the lower classes, but that she seemed truly oblivious to social barriers. He’d seen her retreat to high society airs, come the grand lady with intent, but only as a weapon—not because she believed it her right, but because she could use it and had need of it. Here among these people who were considered little better than animals by many, and who were often treated worse, Elizabeth seemed unaware of the vast gulf that lay between them. So very insightful of Will, and so very true of Elizabeth! Will is just the type of person to make friends with slaves. He must feel a certain kinship with them, though at the same time feel guilty for feeling that because his chains are far from literal.

Elizabeth hating coconut milk! Lovely callback to Marooned there.

The discussion about their families was oddly poingent. Strange that they'd never discussed that before but it worked here. It was a great turning point for the chapter, too. Before, they were kids on the cusp of adulthood, and then when they talk about their childhoods they are the most mature we've seen them. Full circle, that. And then the crushing moment where nothing happens! Or rather, where it almost happened and Will had to take one for the team. His heartache and Elizabeth's hurt confusion were perfect! Then that strained goodbye--so heartbreaking! Elizabeth needs to be hit with a clue-by-four and Will needs a hug. I'd say a drink, but he's not the type.

Date: 2006-10-02 04:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honorat.livejournal.com
The drive-by responder strikes again!

I'm glad you liked Will's characterization of Elizabeth. She is so oblivious to class differences in PotC1 that it seemed likely she wouldn't pay any attention to this one either. Will, as an apprentice, was certainly in bondage until he'd served his time, but at least he has eventual freedom to look forward to.

I hate coconut milk, so Elizabeth gets to do so, :D here and in Marooned.

It's funny how and when we decide we're close enough to someone to reveal something painful from our pasts. There is so much tension between Will and Elizabeth in that scene where she comes down the stairs that I wanted to explore how it might have developed. Will seemed so much more aware of what lay between them than Elizabeth. She still seemed to be sorting out her feelings, trying to thread her true self out from the web of expectations and things taken for granted in her life in order to find her real desires. Since I really believe the two of them are going to end up together, I wanted to explore why they should.

Thank you so much, again, for all the comments and analysis on my humble story.
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