Apr. 23rd, 2007

try_corsets: (To sleep perchance to dream... of rum.)
Elizabeth Swann is sulking. Nothing is as it is supposed to be, and each day is more intolerable than the last. It's as if the warmer weather has thawed her heart and resolve. She and Will should be married, and Jack should be sailing the Caribbean, confounding the EIC at every turn. That's what she wants, she tells herself. She doesn't know how to reconcile a world in which she cannot bring about such a satisfactory conclusion.

Doubt is a slow poison, threading its way through her determination, making her question the future and her place in it. This can't be all: this place, these people, these circumstances.

Partially empty rum bottle in hand, Elizabeth buries her face in her pillow and falls asleep thinking dark thoughts. And it is a well-known truth that dark thoughts usually lead to dark dreams.

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Captain Elizabeth Turner

June 2016

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