he’s dead. well, they all are really. on the endless sea they float, without wind nor breeze to caress their faces. elbows rest upon the railing, fingers soft as they run over the wood of the pearl. the pearl. his breath is deeper, calmer when on his boat for she is freedom. the pearl. she, goddamn it, blast it all, he can’t believe he’s back to that. TO HER. onyx hues dart toward the stairs, where she is. lizzie. horrible, black hearted swan. murderer, his own little murderer. eyes narrow, he doesn’t even realize he’s turning, staring. beautiful lizzie with her sharp brain, with her sun kissed cheek && those hideous, beautiful lips. this is disgusting. he’s the captain jack sparrow, he doesn’t die though many has tried.
but lizzie, she pushed her lips against his, kissed him like she was dying of thirst && he was a glass of water, she didn’t lie in that kiss but she still forced him to his death. i’m not sorry. && his feet have moved before he’s even had time to think about it, walking to her, feet following his stare. but his gaze finds tear tracks upon her cheeks, weatherby is dead. jack is not heartless, he knew what bond existed between father && daughter. he’s sorry to say he can’t find cruelty in his heart. dropping next to her, ringed fingers produce a bottle of rhum under her nose, ❛ should drown yer sorrow, me own murderess. ❜ && dark hues don’t leave her face, sweet, sweet lizzie, with her mouth that kills && her smile that guide.
@wmnking / plotted starter.













