Elphaba the Renthead
As I opened my eyes, I had to resist the urge to scream.My arms ached from clenching onto the barrel. The sun was shining down in my eyes, so I lowered them, looking down into the ocean. I didn't know what had happened to the rest of the ship. The last thing I remember was screaming. Were they my screams? My throat was raw, they must have been. I grimaced again, for the salt water washed up on my open wounds with every roll. I clenched my teeth, digging my hands into a crack in the barrel I held onto. It was the only thing keeping me from dying. I gathered enough strength to raise my head and look around, but the glare from the sun off the water, kept me from seeing farther than twenty feet past my head. I had no idea if there was any land around, if I had any chance of a rescue at all.
I closed my eyes and laid my head down on the barrel. My hair had escaped from it's braid, but by this point that was the least of my worries. I just wanted to be home. This entire scheme, wanting revenge for my husband, it was a joke. I never had a chance. Who was I kidding?
Sobs wracked my body as I faced the awful truth. I was going to die. There was water all around me, and I was going to be thirsty until the last bit of air left my lungs. What an ironic way to die. I had heard that drowning was peaceful, but I didn't understand how any way of death could be peaceful.
At some point I must have fell asleep, for I awoke with a start when I felt something clutch onto my toes. Forgetting where I was, I let go of the barrel to slap at the ground near my foot.
Ground. There was ground. I stood up quickly, falling back into the water as my legs collapsed out from under me. Yet I could sit in the water without drowning.
I waited for my eyes to adjust, for my legs to regain their strength, and I stood up once more- slowly this time. All I wanted now was to find food, and clean water. Then I could worry about finding a way home.
But, as I realized when I started walking to the shore, I wasn't the only person there.
Black_Daisys
I had been adrift for days. How many? I’m not sure. Ibarely even know how I passed the time – simply that I wasn’t thinking. At least, I wasn’t thinking about surviving. I just clung to that barrel and stared up at the sky as my lips became chapped and the sun burned my skin wondering what would become of me. Would I be eaten by a shark now? Or would that devil woman come for me again and tempt me? Maybe if she did I would just let her – at least then I would die happily. It might even be nice – like finding a paradise in this watery wasteland.
Then I had to wonder, did I even care? What had this stupid pirate life gotten me? Almost everything I’d plundered had been lost. Even my precious earrings were gone. And, it certainly hadn’t made me any friends . . . Except for Arrianne. And it had led me back to Luc . . . even so. It was all gone now. They were gone.
So, what was it worth now as I was sitting on some too-small island, sopping wet in the sand with my knees clutched to my chest and seaweed in places I didn’t even want to think about?
“Nothing . . . “ I whispered as I stared out at the ocean with dead eyes. It was worth nothing and now – it was official – I was worth nothing. I lowered my head and prayed that it would be over soon. I was tired of running and fighting for something that would obviously never be. The sooner I was gone, the better. I would die here and no one would even remember Gabrielle from Marseille – and perhaps that’s how it was meant to be all along . . .
Jamais Changeant
That poor girl. That poor...poor...fool of a girl. Can't stop thinkin' of her. She was brass, startin' to wise up. I felt for her. I knew a bit of her story. Somethin' about a long lost brother. How it might be to have family to care about. To look for. To maybe have lookin' for you. Fiona never saw it comin'. One of them monsters came back the next mornin' to wreak its vengeance. I know it weren't mine, it's dead eyes starrin' up at me were still burned into my brain.
What was I thinkin' of her for? Here I was swimmin' out in the sea, not knowin' if there was land anywhere near the remaining wreckage. For all I knew all the others were dead too, but she I knew of for sure. I'd seen the blow take her down.
My legs and arms were temblin' mighty bad as I kept on swimmin'. Freezin' frigid water. I'd kicked off my heavier clothes. Pants, big sleeves, tossed the mask...kept the boots though. They might be weighin' me down now, but if I ever hit land I don't want to be barefooted.
I'd gotten scratched up perty bad in the destruction. I could still hear the screams, my own screams. I'd never been so scared before. What was I thinkin' goin' to sea. A pirate's life for me my a**. The water was too unpredictable. At least on land I knew where I stood. Speakin' of unpredictable...
A huge wave lifted me up. I let it. I was bout ready to give up anyhow. Let it take me down to what's his names locker for all I care. Instead, I get slammed into hot sand tangled in seaweeds and nicked up even more. I hadn't even seen the damned land. How far had that wave carried me. I stood up slowly, still shakin' like a leaf as the wave backed down.
I was alive...I'm sure I looked as shocked as I felt. Actually I'm sure I looked a right mess. I stood with my boots still in the water, sinkin' slightly into the sand. Water still drippin' off me. Good lord, that water on my face weren't from the sea! I was cryin' dammit. I still couldn't stop thinkin' of poor Fiona and all the others! What the hell was happenin' to me. Here I thought pirating was supposed to toughin' folks up and here I was turnin' to mush...
[~Swift~]
It had been a week since the creature had come and destroyed her life. She had sat on the rocky sands and tried not to cry. She was a pirate still, and emotions were for the week, for those who couldn't take care of themselves... but still, she couldn't believe it, she had escaped her old life only to have her new life destroyed. Was she never to find happiness, was she not fit to simply live with the simplest of joys to have a home and friends and a lover? Achilles was gone, at this realization the sadness overwhelmed her and the tears flowed into the sea. He was gone, lost in the torrent that had destroyed the ship. The first day passed.
Eventually she realized she could not leave her fate to the elements. She was still strong and proud if she was tie to die it would be by a sword not from weak emotions. If the gods would not take her house she would build a new one. Over that day she labored with the small blade she found and fashioned a shelter out of the thin trees that grew on the tiny island. She cut down the young thin trees and ate the fruit of the elders. As the sun neared its setting there was little more she could do than collapse beneath the thing roof. The Sand hugged her tightly and kept her warm and safe through the night.
The Second day she explored. The island was not more than two miles in diameter in any direction but there was much to see. She harvested vegetables and fruits of odd varieties; valuables one would never see in the marketplace back home. By the end of the day she had tasted so many flavors and varieties of foods that she thought it was perhaps a gift from the Gods that she had come to land here, to reflect on her life and such. This was shortly followed by sever indigestion and again she was back to hating her present circumstances.
She Struggled to overcome the effects of the food over the next few days. Luckily she had stockpiled enough safe fruit to last her but it was torturous to leave when she had to piss or when the pain of dehydration forced her to the fresh water stream.
When she finally felt well enough to leave her tiny sanctuary it seemed like it had been six or so days since she had first landed, it was hard to
recall that far back. Today she decided that it was time to wander to see if anything else had since washed ashore. As she peered into the waters she hardly recognized herself. Her hair was ratted and tangled, the clothes she wore were literally falling apart from the labor she had put into her chores.
That day she decided to fix herself she took the blade and chopped her matted hair, so that she could re-tie it in her mother's favorite braid. She took her clothes and cut away all the loose material until she had simple patterns over her waste and chest. The clothes probably would have made her self conscious had anybody been around to see her. She took the leather from her vest in order to make ankle bindings to ease her pain since they had become achy from the labor. Finally she finished by using the inner stitchings of her coat in order to fashion a headband or crimson cloth to hold her hair back.
It wasn't the most fashionable or modest clothing but it was comfortable and was the only thing she had that reminded her of her pirate life.
On the seventh day she peered into the sea with great satisfaction, she felt like a god of her little island laboring for many days and finally feeling happiness and contentment as she reached a level of peace. As she sat and pondered her newest life she noted the odd clouds in distance. They were low, very low on the horizon, and oddly shaped.
It was a Ship! A ship with white sales usually meant a trading ship, perhaps it could take her from her new home...and as the thought escaped her mind she fond some sadness in the idea of leaving "home," and as she grew to relinquish her island an even hollower sadness filled her. Even if it was a friendly ship it was miles away it would never be able to find her, let alone save her. A single tear fell from her bronze skin, not in self pity or sadness but in the realization that this island was a home as much as a prison and no matter what happened she was utterly trapped.
