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Title: Types of Gold
Rating: PG:13 for a few swear words
Beta: No one, if your interested please just e-mail me or leave a comment
Pairing: Well I guess if you squint in all the right places it could be a E/J
Disclaimer: Right, I think we can move right on. But if you own them please feel free to lend them out *hint hint*
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Types of Gold
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In her childhood fantasising about adventure and young handsome pirate boys was a source of fun, but now that she is stranded on a tropical island, the never ending field of sky and sea seems the most awful sight.
Of course this is not one of her daydreams, the lack of an abandoned palace is evidence enough, not to mention the near endless supply of rum. But she could survive if this was the only difference, but it's not. She knows that she never dreamt of such an absurd, shameless, idiotic and utterly golden pirate.
Golden that's the right word. It surrounds him completely. From those bloody coins that dragged her into this mess to the colour that flashes when he smiles, even his skin is golden. Although, she supposes, this could just be from the rum that he drowns himself in.
The major problem with the island is him. Him and his almost pretty face and dark eyes that promise to take her somewhere far away where blacksmiths and commodores don't matter.
There is something about his movements that turn even the most outlandish gestures into a caress, a type of liquid grace that is out of place with his appearance.
Another gust of warm wind whips her hair and she raises the bottle to her mouth and takes a sip. The warm liquor burns a fierce path down her throat. She looks over at Jack Sparrow and wonders how long ago it was that he took his first sip.
And even as she lifts the bottle again, she can't help but wish with all her heart for a cup of tea, something that's warm gentle and sweet. Wishes for something familiar and plain.
Jack hasn't really spoken to her since their original stranding, he just picked up a few bottles of rum and retreated to the beach. Even so, she has seen him looking. Nothing overly obvious but with just a flash of something nearing curiosity. Elizabeth knows she should discourage him with a stern glare but whenever she catches his eyes she can't help but look away.
What is it that he sees when he looks at her? Is it a young slip of a girl or a polite society lady with more looks than brains? She suspects that he's a fair bit older than what his face shows. There's something about him, underneath all of the trinkets and distractions, which suggests that he has experienced more than one should in his lifetime.
Their glances meet again and this time Elizabeth doesn't look away. His eyes darken with some unfamiliar emotion and she can't help but feel scared. She doesn't know how she missed it but there is danger in that glance and tensed body.
She quickly breaks eye contact with him and turns her gaze up to the clouds. They are drifting through the afternoon sky like tufts of smoke, and that's when the idea hit's her.
Elizabeth picks up a few more bottles before standing and trudging over to where he sits. She must get back to Will, and soon. For she doesn't know if tea will be able to wash the taste of rum from her mind once she has had too much.
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It would be good if you could review but I really thank you for reading
Title: Types of Gold
Rating: PG:13 for a few swear words
Beta: No one, if your interested please just e-mail me or leave a comment
Pairing: Well I guess if you squint in all the right places it could be a E/J
Disclaimer: Right, I think we can move right on. But if you own them please feel free to lend them out *hint hint*
* * *
Types of Gold
* * *
In her childhood fantasising about adventure and young handsome pirate boys was a source of fun, but now that she is stranded on a tropical island, the never ending field of sky and sea seems the most awful sight.
Of course this is not one of her daydreams, the lack of an abandoned palace is evidence enough, not to mention the near endless supply of rum. But she could survive if this was the only difference, but it's not. She knows that she never dreamt of such an absurd, shameless, idiotic and utterly golden pirate.
Golden that's the right word. It surrounds him completely. From those bloody coins that dragged her into this mess to the colour that flashes when he smiles, even his skin is golden. Although, she supposes, this could just be from the rum that he drowns himself in.
The major problem with the island is him. Him and his almost pretty face and dark eyes that promise to take her somewhere far away where blacksmiths and commodores don't matter.
There is something about his movements that turn even the most outlandish gestures into a caress, a type of liquid grace that is out of place with his appearance.
Another gust of warm wind whips her hair and she raises the bottle to her mouth and takes a sip. The warm liquor burns a fierce path down her throat. She looks over at Jack Sparrow and wonders how long ago it was that he took his first sip.
And even as she lifts the bottle again, she can't help but wish with all her heart for a cup of tea, something that's warm gentle and sweet. Wishes for something familiar and plain.
Jack hasn't really spoken to her since their original stranding, he just picked up a few bottles of rum and retreated to the beach. Even so, she has seen him looking. Nothing overly obvious but with just a flash of something nearing curiosity. Elizabeth knows she should discourage him with a stern glare but whenever she catches his eyes she can't help but look away.
What is it that he sees when he looks at her? Is it a young slip of a girl or a polite society lady with more looks than brains? She suspects that he's a fair bit older than what his face shows. There's something about him, underneath all of the trinkets and distractions, which suggests that he has experienced more than one should in his lifetime.
Their glances meet again and this time Elizabeth doesn't look away. His eyes darken with some unfamiliar emotion and she can't help but feel scared. She doesn't know how she missed it but there is danger in that glance and tensed body.
She quickly breaks eye contact with him and turns her gaze up to the clouds. They are drifting through the afternoon sky like tufts of smoke, and that's when the idea hit's her.
Elizabeth picks up a few more bottles before standing and trudging over to where he sits. She must get back to Will, and soon. For she doesn't know if tea will be able to wash the taste of rum from her mind once she has had too much.
* * *
It would be good if you could review but I really thank you for reading