scourgeofpiracy | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's not the first time he's found himself, in dreams, in a place that's lost to him in reality. That time was in the office that now belongs to Cutler Beckett, but in this dream...

...in this dream, he's aboard the Endeavour, whole and undamaged and there as she'll never be again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Norrington looks at him carefully.

"Changing the rules... an effective strategy, where it's possible. Would you have any suggestions, sir?"

'None as concrete as I would like,' he admits, with a slight shake of his head. 'It will very likely depend on how matters progress from here on out. But one thing to keep in mind is that in a game where all of the players are mercenaries, every action is reckoned in terms of prices to be paid or prizes to be won...and as such, a move that takes neither into account can come as quite a surprise, strategically speaking.'

He places a hand on the top-most navigational chart on the desk. At his touch, the blurred lines resolve themselves into a sharp, perfectly drawn map of the Caribbean waters nearest to Port Royal -- a map that Norrington could almost certainly draw with his eyes closed.

Norrington considers this, giving the map a cursory glance - because yes, he does know it like the back of his hand.

"I shall remember that."

And he will.

The map remains clear and perfectly drawn as Commodore Lyon lifts his hand, and proceeds to adjust the cuffs of his dress coat. 'A sensible man once said -- or rather, will say -- that corporations have neither bodies to be punished nor souls to be condemned, and therefore they do as they like. But that alone does not make them invulnerable...and it certainly does not make them immortal.'

It is at that moment that the faint clang of a ship's bell rings out, the echoes drifting into the cabin from somewhere in the heavy mist that surrounds the ship.

Dark, inscrutable eyes meet Norrington's. 'I believe you have the watch, Mister Norrington.'

Norrington doesn't look away.

"I believe you're right. Go well, Commodore."

He touches his hat in a small, polite half-salute.

'Go well, Mister Norrington. And I wish you good fortune, in your endeavour.'

The ship's bell tolls again, more loudly this time. And as the echoes fade away, he is no longer there.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only