tentacruelest | 2nd Wave

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2nd Wave

[It's a week now since Davy Jones joined up with the Barge and was immediately thrust into Zero, and now he's out and about. Not so much about as out, as he seems relegated to his sixth floor cabin in a perpetual moody sulk.

But that hardly means he's being quiet about it. From one end of the hall to the other, the sixth floor shakes and moans with the sounds of a fearsome organ being played, loudly and without heed to anyone who had the foolish notion of getting some peace and quiet in today. Even other floors can likely hear a distant but still ominous melody sounding off through the ship's bones.

At least the leaking water's been staved off, and seems to have been relegated back to only a murky puddle leaking outside Jones' door.

He's not the friendliest of neighbors.]

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Insulted? [She thinks about it for a short moment.] No, I think not, Captain.

Mmn. Good.

Do you play?

No. [She almost leaves it at that, but she may as well confess it.] I sing.

[Jones' interest is immediately piqued. He sits up, leaning forward on the organ's bench]

Do you, now.

I do. It's a talent I am known for on my home world.

It must be an impressive thing, your voice.

When I am at my full abilities, it does have magical capabilities.

[Jones tilts his head curiously to the side once, then the other way]

What magical capabilities?

It can inflict damage when used in the appropriate context. Sometimes it can bolster those I see as allies..

A siren's wail?

Banshee.

Banshee.

I should like to hear it when the mood suits.

Perhaps that can be arranged. But not while I am still behind bars. It has too much of a resemblance to being a caged bird.

No; no, never. When you choose.

I'll let you know then.

I'll look for yeh.

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