tentacruelest | 1st Wave

1st Wave

[Down in the depths of Zero sits a sulking, furious squid creature, wrapping his tentacle-like hand around his communicator. Davy Jones has been looking it over for the past day, and is thus far unimpressed. A way to talk to the rest of the crew? What was the point? They had nothing worthwhile to discuss]

Pardon the intrusion of an old pirate captain, but I believe I've requested to see his grace the Admiral, if he so deigns to get his fat arse off the bridge and address my concerns.

Bah - you think a day's stay in the brig will ease th' way of our voyage together? You think your pathetic lot of untested boys, women and slaves is enough to keep Davy Jones at bay for long? You're more of a fool than I'd taken you for.

And the next bilge rat what comes down here prattling on about inmates and other worlds is the next I mark for death.

Riddick - I name ye. Dean Winchester - I name ye too.

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There is no Captain. If I were to credit the Admiral with any power it's just his ability to understand her a little better than we do.

Then we are, to a man, alone.

But for each other, mon capitaine.

You group with your own. I will rely on no one, and have no one rely on me.

All the same you have offer of my company, my wine, or access to the enclosure or the pub at your request, once you're out and about again.

All I ask, not necessarily in return, is that you refrain from harming my friends in the future. You have no need of enemies in a place such as this.

That all depends on the quality of the wine.

You would have to sample it yourself. The vintages I currently hold come from the orchards at my old chateau but I pick up new bottles that interest me in various ports.

French, you said?

Oui.

You are enjoying this.

This conversation? [He shrugs.] Not the worst I've had. I'm not happy that you hurt one of my friends, and I don't much like that you've threatened another of them. This place is about second chances, however, and I would not be a gentleman or a proper Warden if I did not attempt to embody that ideal as best as I am able.

Keep your second chances and keep your wine and conversation. I have no use for any of it.

You've already all but suggested you would try at least one of those before making your decision. I'll hold you to that.

You hold me to nothing. We've struck no agreement.

You seem to think that will stop me from asking.

...You spoke of wine before as though you drink it. [His brow furrows.] Not knowing anything but your name I hope you understand why this might confuse me.

I am able to imbibe when it pleases me, yes.

[Resting his chin on his hand.]

But there aren't a number of orchards in the sea, I'd imagine.

I pluck whatever is made available aboard derelict, run-aground ships.

[He just hasn't worked out yet that he didn't always look like that.]

You won't find that necessary here.

Likely because this ship makes port sooner than once every ten years.

At least once a month, typically.

It does not matter when it makes port. I shall not set foot on shoreline for near of a decade.

I beg your pardon?

One day ashore. Ten years at sea.

Such are the rules for the one who captains the Flying Dutchman.

If you are here then you are no longer the Captain of the Flying Dutchman. Not so long as you are here, at any rate.

(no subject)

tentacruelest - 2013-07-19 02:52 (UTC) - Expand

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