tentacruelest | 10th Wave

10th Wave

The cacophony of noise here is growing worse. Stow your bleating, lambs, or I'll cast yeh overboard to fill your jabbering mouths with seawater.

[Never mind that they're not even sailing over water at the moment. Jones can understand English, but is speaking in Scots Gaelic]

[Private to Sylvanas]

If yeh would oblige me a moment, m'lady..? I've something you might like to see.

[Private to Bush]

Yeh've been quiet, Warden. Plotting something?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I am happy that for a time I had his head. And I care little about how I amperceived on this ship!

This ain't the ship, Jones. This is me, and God I am sorry it is.

Was it a duel, or was it murder.

[Annoyed at Bush not allowing the matter to drop, Jones acquiesces. He is, of course, viciously proud of himself]

It wasn't a proper duel, and nor was it your traditional knife in the back. Somewhere between, I should think. A forced engagement; a knife in the front.

[Bush gives a dissatisfied grunt, exasperated.]

You know what honour is-- at least when it's hers. But you're so pleased to act the savage. I let the matter with Dent go because it was arranged and neither of you hurt, but this ain't going by.

I am going to speak to Winchester, and you'll spend the next week cleaning the heads if I have my way.

Speak with him all yeh like, Captain. I've got what I came for. He deserved to die at least once more, and I obliged him.

And what do you deserve?

For all my sins, or just this one in particular?

Judge yourself as you've so obligingly judged Arthas.

Your articles don't apply to me, Bush. This was an act of swift retribution.

Not by the articles, Jones-- not here.

But you attacked him over the honor of her Ladyship, over sins of his.

Who deserves retribution out of you? I hear he is a god of Death, or was, just like you was the devil of sailors, are you so different, the pair of you, that you can judge him and consider yourself an innocent?

Do not presume to bring her into this. I killed Arthas because he irritated me, just as you are doing now. The name of Davy Jones has not been brought so low as to allow others to infringe upon its good graces. Despite your best efforts, I am still able to kill when need arises.

I don't consider myself anything; and certainly not innocent. The benefit of being a devil and a monster is going out and committing monstrosities with impunity.

I will presume, because I'm not quite as stupid as you take me for.

I have never seen a man so honourable and brave and so cowardly and low at the same time-!

Again; she had nothing to do with it. She did not ask, or even imply asking. I saw what I liked and took it.

[Deeply amused at this]

Seeing as how I was both a legitimate sea captain as well as a pirate, I'll take your word as compliment to both sides of meself. So long as it's the sea captain who's the honorable one and the cowardly pirate the other.

I mean both of'm the man-- the one with a heart so broken he'd rather cut it out of his chest than live with it.

You've played the devil but showed yourself the man here, Jones. Still courtly and still with a heart, even if it ain't behind your ribs.

Of course she didn't ask you for it, I've no thought she did. But it was for her you did it.

Enough, Bush. I'll take whatever punishment you see fit to give, but I will not allow talk like this in my presence.

You're no dumb animal that fears the lash or a spell cleaning the heads. You won't shy away from'm again.

And since you're not an animal, you'll talk.

[Seething, Jones has to contend that Bush is right; punishment and discipline in their age is not likely to deter him from what he wants. He has the capacity to withstand punishment while refusing to learn a thing.

Talking about his feelings, however, is never something he's been comfortable with, and the idea of having to do that threatens to throw him into a rage]

And you'll do that how, exactly?

By talking to you. Because I believe you will grow tired sooner or later of being misunderstood.

You take me for a 14-year-old lass writing to her tear-soaked diary? I am not misunderstood except by those whom I have no interest in making understand.

You know what a dull wit I am, Jones. I can misunderstand you pretty neatly. And after an eternity or so you will be tired of me being wrong, and put me right.

You don't have an eternity to spare-ah.

I can outlast yeh, William Bush.

But I do, Jones. I have as much a one as you.

And I will continue saying that you are a scorned lover turned your scorn on everyone around you, and that despite it you would risk your life for a devoted friend.

Yeh don't have the patience for an eternity of servitude with no results. I do.

You will say it to no one or you'll feel just what my scorn can do to your beaten, broken body. She is not my friend. She is nothing.

[At that, Bush lofts both eyebrows at him, somewhat bemused by this judgement of his fickleness. If ever mortal man was born to trudge and serve through unfair treatment and monotony interspersed with danger, Bush is of the breed.]

As you like, Jones. In another ten years I'll toast you to my fickleness, and then another ten after that.

And Calypso, just a sad chapter in your past, forgotten? You lie badly for a pirate.

In another ten years I'll have killed you more times than you'd like to count. Are ye prepared for that?

[At this, Jones grows cold and stressed, anxious and angry and flustered. When it's matters of ship and sail, he knows precisely where he stands. Love is another battlefield altogether.

He immediately leaps on the defensive; a definite departure from usual tactics]

She was not so degraded as to be a bit player in any man's book. You cannot - do not speak her name-! - she was...

She is not Sylvanas.

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