Davy Jones and The Sea Scribble
Davy Jones is not born to a poor family. They are not in the realm of riches, but they do not want for necessities. He does not sell himself to endless sea work out of need or choiceless options.
He goes to the sea because he loves it.
He loves the constant roll of the water, the slosh of it against a ship’s side, the salt air in his face, the sound of a dozen voices reverberating around a shanty and sending it over sea. He loves the way it houses things of beauty and destruction equally, without a lick of discrimination, the way it takes what it needs, the way it houses half a dozen patrons without sparking a war over which is true. He loves the fish within it, the sea atop it and all the things it keeps hidden deep within.
He loves how it can be both brutal and gentle, how it can lap over his toes like silk and rise over an entire ship like a beast. It brings him great calm, to watch how it continues to roll on, undeterred by anything. It keeps moving in storms and droughts and ordinary days.
It is a thing that he could lose himself over. A day spent with it is a day lived well.
Davy Jones loves the sea.
That is why it does not feel like work, or sacrifice, to spend months on months there. He loves it enough to risk and give without promise of return.
It can be so very cruel, the sea. Heartless and cold and brutal. Many fear the idea of it. He simply adores that it exists, loves it with a kind of recklessness that is idiotic. That is why he becomes Davy Jones, captain of the Flying Dutchman, sailor of the not-dead, non-living. That is why he smiles at a goddess and presumes a future, why he lets her do as she wishes, why he lets her take his mortality. It is because he loves it that he lets it take, and it is because he loves it that he wanted to take from it, too.
He chooses Calypso even when it feels wrong. He meets her and dedicates himself to her before the water runs clear from the blood of the crew she consumed. He lets her divinity pull his hubris to the surface, lets her make him into something he would not have become alone. There were choices made between them and all of his were made because of the sea and his heart.
They become a tragedy because Calypso does not make her choices for the same reasons.
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