( ♞ | voskreshenii )

                    The city sleeps PEACEFULLY beneath Will, gaze traveling from rooftop to rooftop as he WAITS for the woman behind him to WAKE. Despite the DARK that has settled like a CLOAK over the planet, Will can see SOME of the beauty allotted to this planet. Not something he would ever ADMIT to, but something he allows himself to CONSIDER for a small moment. Fingers GRASP the gun at his side, pulling it from it’s holster in a FLUID motion. He moves closer to the sleeping woman, setting the gun beside her. He’s not entirely sure WHY he does it, or why he’s waiting for her to awake in the FIRST place. But he’s willing BRUSH IT OFF as mere EXHAUSTION on his part, a CLOUDED mind that results from nearly dying MULTIPLE times in one day. A quick ROLL of his shoulders releases some of the TENSION that’d begun to build there, and he reminds himself to RELAX. Soon enough, their transport will arrive, and they’ll be FINE. He’ll be REINSTATED for his troubles, a reward that’s far better than any MONETARY value.  As the thought CROSSES his mind, Will hears a SOFT sound from his right. Glancing over CONFIRMS that the sound came from her, all DAZED expression and sleep rumpled hair. Will turns BACK to the window, speaking without looking at her.

                             “ I figured the gun would make you feel better when you woke up.”

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( ♞ | Survivor )

      Perhaps it would have been easier had she not awoken at all.  It certainly would have been less painful. She aches, she’s cold, she’s homesick. The voyage had not been one of choice to begin with. Political circumstances had forced Anastasia and her family to relocate, and one thing she knew. She could not go back. It is that thought that bears immense weight on her shoulders as she attempts to process the words that fall from his lips. She barely registers his name, it disappears in the cacophony of noise and static that consumes her upon the final few words he speaks. 

              You were the only survivor we found.

        He was right about one thing. NOTHING could have prepared her for the news. Nothing could have softened the blow. If he had physically struck her, it would have been less painful than the news he bore. His expression, however kind and meant to not mean harm, is futile. He has hurt her in the most painful way. She flinches— recoils from him — as though it’d been his own hands that had killed them. She wants to scream, throw herself into the crashing waves and reunite with the family that had been so cruelly ripped from her grasp. 

        Being a survivor is a damnation all its own. Just hours ago she had been laughing, joking with her sisters, doting on her mother and father. This is cruel. She should have died with  them. The news, not surprisingly, leaves her shell-shocked into silence for a long moment. Anastasia cannot comprehend that she has lost everything— everyone. Her hands tremble, her shoulders quake and tears prick, hot and stinging, at the corners of her eyes. It feels like she’d been punched straight to the gut. Breathing becomes difficult as Anastasia tries to rein in her grief. The blue of her irises reflect like a storm brewing. She will not cry. Not yet. Not with an audience. If she must lose everything else, she will keep her pride.

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                        “I—– I don’t—- I don’t understand. N-None of them survived?” 

Being perceptive was  a skill that Will had been both blessed and
( cursed ) with, eyes catching that which most would like to hide.   As the
weight of his words registered with the woman,      Will noted the emotions 
that began to flit across her face. Disbelief and   sadness,    confusion and 
ANGER,   all things he’d seen before when it came to loss.  Still,  he knew 
he was intruding on a private moment,    that her grief was not meant to be 
put on display. Least of all to the man who had come to  deliver  their souls.

Despite the understanding  Will had for the situation,   a crease
developed between his brows at the way she’d   flinched   away from him.
The action created a small amount of tension in the room,   and Will subtly
took a step back,  giving her as much room as he could.  Though he’d had
no hand in their deaths, he was sure that being the  ( bearer )  of bad news 
was just as bad in the current situation  . How many of those that had been
floating in the water had been her  kin ? What was she left with now?     A
family to return to?  Or  NOTHING  at all?  Those questions swam through
Will’s mind unbidden and unwelcome,  for he feared he may  voice  one of
them if he wasn’t careful. 

The sound of      her   strangled   breathing startled Will back into the 
moment, ( concern ) lining his face as he watched from where he stood. He
took note of the  determination in the line of her shoulders, how despite the
way her eyes glinted with sadness, not a SINGLE tear had been shed. There
was strength in her, but even the strongest would break. Something told
Will that watching this woman  shatter  would be astoundingly painful.    Her 
question  was  expected,  dormant    hope   laying  beneath  the  words  that 
might have been spoken by weaker individuals.  A silent plea for a changed
fate,     for a God to reach down and turn back the hands of ( time ).     But it 
seemed that God was no longer  LISTENING  to the world of men.

        “ None that we saw, Miss. And we were thorough in
          our search, particularly after we found you.” 

Will crossed his  arms,    turning towards a chair he had in the corner
of the room.   He sat on the edge of it,     eyes almost asking permission to 
remain seated.     The last thing he wanted was to startle her,     or to trigger
the TURMOIL she must have been facing in that moment.

       “ Might I know your name? ”

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( ♞ |  survivor )

                                   gameofdeception

        She wakes to the smell of saltwater and brine and the sensation of being carried; cold— terribly cold— and wet and delirious. Anastasia blinks once, twice, and attempts to clear the spots from her vision. Her head pounds; the sound of cannons still ring in her ears. Her eyes fall shut again, and the world goes black. 

        When she wakes a second time, her focus is clearer, but so is the confusion. Her surroundings are familiar and unfamiliar all at once— a ship’s cabin, but not her own. What happened? Panic seizes her and she jolts upright, limbs and muscles screaming in protest. The sound of footsteps call her attention to another presence in the room, brief, as he slips out, calling ‘Captain! She’s awake!’ 

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         She presses the heels of her palms to her eyelids and tries to recall earlier events. The ship, the voyage, cannon fire and smoke, her family…. her family!! Anastasia’s attention is drawn to the door when it creaks open. She stiffens, defensive and suspicious. 

                                                “Who—- who are you? Where am I?” 

In the entirety of Will Turner’s existence, he’d never once gotten used
to  the  suddenness  of  DEATH.  He  supposed  that  as the  Captain  of the
Flying  Dutchman,  the concept was one he  should  have  found  some sort
of understanding in, but instead, he seemed to question it even more.   How
could   he   not,    when   he   was   practically   the     EMBODIMENT      of 
the    Grim Reaper ,   set  to take the souls of those  departed  from  the
land  of the  living to  the world  that existed  just beyond the  reach of others.
Despite  the near year  Will  had  spent  ferrying  souls,  he  couldn’t  say  it 
had gotten any easier.  He  hoped  that  one  day  it  would,  since he had an 
e t e r n i t y   to grow used to it.

But today would not be the day Will hoped for. There would be no peace
in  the  events  that  had  occurred,  and  he  found  this  to be the worst of what
he had encountered thus far.   DEATH  and   DESTRUCTION  were often left in 
the wake of some more vengeful pirates, a fact Will found he detested.    These
were  the  types  of  pirates  he’d grown to   hate   and hated severely,   the ones 
who  killed  for  fun.   He  often  found  himself  wishing  the  deaths  of those he 
ferried over were quick – he knew better than to hope they were painless.   Still, 
he  hadn’t  expected  to  find  a  survivor  among  the corpses that floated in the 
water.  Were it not for the rise and fall of her chest,  she’d have been missed by
the crew,  and   undoubtedly   lost like the rest of what Will assumed to be her 
family.

Questionable glances had   been directed towards him once his crew
had  learned  that someone  had  SURVIVED  , and Will had done the only thing 
he could think of in that moment –  demanded that she be brought on board until 
she woke. Perhaps it was the  parallel to his rescue that made Will do it without 
thinking, but leaving her to die was never an option.    Waves rocked the ship as 
they sailed towards their current destination,  and Will found himself at the helm
of the ship,  brows furrowed as he watched the setting sun.  Already, long hours
had passed since the woman had been brought on board,   and a part of him was 
beginning to wonder if his act of salvation had been nothing but a wasted effort. If
she took any longer to wake, he feared she may  NEVER  wake at all.

It was as he was entertaining the worst case scenario that  a  yell  from  below 
caught his attention, a member of his crew alerting him. A flicker of relief passed
through the Captain as he made sense of the words,   quickly making his way into
his quarters. The sound of his boots hitting the wood seemed far too loud, startling
even, and he  almost  wished they were made of a softer material.     He knew that 
the news he was going to give was already  HARSH  enough,  and the more caring 
side of him wanted to dull everything else so as to make it easier. It was,  however,
false hope – there truly was nothing to dull the pain of losing someone.   Knocking
once on the door to announce his arrival, Will stepped into the room, eyes seeking
those of the woman.

He wasn’t surprised to find caution written into the lines of her face, weary 
eyes watching his every move. Instinct made him lift his hands slightly, almost as
if to show her he meant no harm. 

          “ My name is William Turner, I’m Captain of this ship.” He responded
            voice quiet in the room. “ Do you remember your name? ”

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you ignored the

independent will turner
from pirates of the caribbean

selective & private
oc & crossover friendly

replies will be slow

rules of engagement

written by LEA

est. april 24, 2015

TRACKING:
gameofdeception