Where am I? It's so cold... So lonely.

Alou passed her hands over her arms, rubbing at the cold limbs. She couldn't shake the angry feeling clutching at her. Was she knocked out? Had she comitted a crime and was being punished? She thought they were being attacked before she blacked out. People shouting 'Kracken'. Oh Lord, if this was the Locker, this'd be Hell enough for her at this point. She looked down suddenly feeling her jonts seize up.

She breathed.

Alou awoke on deck, coughing up the water that had logged her lungs. It was as cold as the dream and rain hammered down on her. Blinking blearily, she was only able to see shadowy figures standing just within eyesight. She went to sit up, crying out as she put her hand to side. Her eyes widened. Blood?! She rubbed her eyes of seawater and stared about blearily, still trying to realize what was going on.

As Alou looked over her side, she felt the stab of pain and realization hit her. There was a hook in her gut. She groned in agony, not even trying to pry the foreign object out when she remembered. She wasn't alone. For the first time, she looked at the deck. It was slippery against her hands and its wood was different; nothing like the clean, light wood upon the Fighting Chance.

Her head snapped up to the sound of a heavy chuckle. She saw boots, specifically a boot and a crude peg leg seemingly resembling a crab's leg. Her vision rose slowly, praying silently she was dreaming as she blinked. The man before her was all but normal, his left arm that of a crab's claw and his right forefinger long and tentacled. She feared to go any higher, but the laughs from various shadows behind her gloated her on. Her vision raised to a squirming mass of tentacles forming the beard of the man. He glared down at her with blue eyes that appeared much like the sea around him. It was plain who he was. Everybody knew the lege- facts.

Alou met his eyes with her own fearful ones, their blue color glazed in fear. She tugged nervously on her waist length ponytail, hiding part of her face with it, as if it would change the fact she was mortified. A lancing reminder in her side brought her to speak.

"A-Am I dead?" She squeaked, now sitting up with a hand to support her. The man glared down at her, as if she was dirt underfoot. When he spoke, her body grew relaxed, his heavy accent having an almost calming effect on her.

"Amost- Tell me, woman, do ye know who I am?" He said, not bothering to have his crew lift her to her feet. He apparoached slowly, his peg leg making a deep thunk against the deck. He took his time walking circles around her, waiting for an answer from the trembling woman.

"Yes- You're Davy Jones." Alou replied, her eyes now darting to the shadowed figures around her. She suddenly choked, feeling the hook move in her abdomin as she coughed. She looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Yer dying and ye have been given a choice." He said, as though he has practised even before he encountered her. Every word was precise. He neither stopped nor stumbled as he spoke. "Do ye wish to survive? Or do ye desire to succumb to the tendrils beaconing ye to dark damnation in death?" He held himself in an intimidating sort of way. This was beginning to scare the courage out of Alou.

She responded as soon as he finished speaking, desperate to be spared. "Y-yes, I want to live." She said, beginning to grow weak from the amount of blood loss and from the pain of having her entrails caught on a hook. "I'll do anything." She stated.

Jones looked over the woman. Lithe, pale, and fearful. "Will ye join me crew and agree to one hundred years of servitude? Sail the seas for a century?" He sounded so convincing to Alou that she forced herself to cling to consciousness for as long as she could bear.

"Yes, Suh. I will."