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Post by Pirate on Feb 8, 2015 19:25:37 GMT -5
[Oh god, Jackson. That's awful. Can you imagine getting the crap beaten out of you only for someone to come by later and just kill you? *shivers* He deserved it...]
Alice stayed where she was when Jackson left the room, whimpering softly. It wasn't until he returned and spoke that she moved, lifting her head to look at him. She hesitated a moment before taking his hand and getting off of the bed. She walked with him outside and back to the ship, her eyes darting around in fear. She was afraid she would see her attacker and being out in the open was frightening, even with Jackson's arm around her. She felt better when they reached the ship, feeling safer once they were in the small room below deck. She looked up when he spoke, shaking her head. She didn't want him to leave her alone, but he was out the door before she could vocally protest. Crossing her arms over her chest, she sat on the edge of the bed and cried. After a while, she got to her feet and paced the room. She remembered the letter she had begun the day before and she grabbed it, taking some time to clear her mind and finish it. When she was done, she paced again, hugging herself. She wanted Jackson to come back. Despite James supposedly being outside of her door, she didn't feel safe without the pirate captain with her. She periodically opened the door and looked out to see if James was there. He was and when it was confirmed, she would close the door and return to pacing or settle on the bed and cry or stare blankly ahead. It was a long time before Jackson returned and when the door opened, she flinched, looking up to see who it was. Upon seeing him, she stood and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and clinging to him tightly. She was relieved he had returned. "I'm okay," she said softly in response to his question.
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Post by Caebeeb on Feb 8, 2015 19:48:10 GMT -5
{He deserved it, but Jackson didn't want to do it, especially after he killed his brother.}
Jackson loosely wrapped his arms around Alice when she came to him, angling his hands so that he didn't dirty her dress. "Good," he murmured, offering a weak smile. "Do you want anything to eat?" he asked softly, hoping she'd agree. He felt a little numb. Whether or not the man deserved what he had had coming, it still took something out of Jackson. He killed because he had to, but he gave up a little piece of his soul every time it happened. He absolutely hated the man he had turned in to. At one time, he wouldn't have dreamed of taking another man's life. But now, it felt like that was all he ever did. He'd killed his own brother, for God's sake! His own flesh and blood! What kind of man did that make him? He was determined to change, and he'd almost been proud of letting that wretched man live, even if he inflicted enough injury to make him suffer for the rest of his life. He'd seen Alice's face though, when she found out he was still alive. He couldn't let her continue to live in fear like that. So he did what he had to do. He sacrificed a piece of himself for her, and he could only hope that it would make her feel safer. "He's dead, Alice," he whispered, his brows furrowed. He forced a shaky smile.
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Post by Pirate on Mar 9, 2015 23:56:36 GMT -5
Alice clung to him a moment longer, her cheek pressed against his chest as she was comforted by his strong arms around her. She was safe again. She was always safe with him. At his question about food, she drew back, letting her arms fall to her side as she lifted her hazel eyes to his face. Despite the reassurance of his presence, something seemed...off about him. His face lacked some of the light from before. She hadn't really been paying attention to his countenance as she was more wrapped up in her own head. But now that she really looked at him, she noticed how he just came across as lacking emotion, whereas before he had been more expressive about what was on his mind. His smiles and gestures seemed empty. She wasn't sure when the change had occurred, but it must have been after their departure from her home. She realized that perhaps she was burdening him by her weakness and she cast her eyes down. She had known she wasn't of much use to him in the first place, which was why she had so eagerly looked for a way to contribute to the ship. But now it was dawning on her that she may have been too self absorbed and not realized that she was actually burdening him emotionally. She seemed to get into trouble so often and all he was ever doing was coming to her rescue. Despites the horror she had lived through in the past night, she felt the need to be self-sufficient in some way and give back to him all that he had given to her. She turned her eyes up once more to look at him, nodding at his question. It was the first thing she could do to help herself, which hopefully would help him. "I think I should eat a little something," she responded. He didn't move immediately after she spoke and she could see that he was thinking by the distant look in his eyes. She hoped it wasn't her reply that had sent him off, but he appeared to come back and when he fixed his gaze on her with furrowed brows, she paled at his words. Dead? He had left her to kill her attacker. The mention of the man brought back the unpleasant memories that she didn't want to relive and she closed her eyes, turning away a moment as she waited for the vision to pass. Her stomach had begun to knot and any small feeling of hunger she had experienced before was out of the question. She took a deep breath, returning her gaze to his face and catching his forced smile. It was bothering him, what he had done for her. But now she had the reassurance that the man would stay away forever. She once again wrapped her arms around him, feeling tears pool into her eyes once more. This time, they were of relief. He had saved her once more and at a sacrifice to himself. "Thank you," she whispered softly. She knew the smile on his lips was not that of a proud man, but of someone struggling with what they had done. She had to convey to him what it meant to her. She pushed herself up with her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, hoping that he would understand how grateful she was for him to do such a thing for her. She stepped back and reached to take his hand, only seeing the blood staining it. She paused in her motions and then drew her hand back, lifting her gaze up to his. "You should go wash off," she told him gently. "And then rest." She wasn't interested in eating anyway. He needed to take a moment to take care of himself.
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Post by Caebeeb on Mar 10, 2015 1:04:17 GMT -5
Jackson watched as the small woman spun away from him upon hearing his revelation, blinking several times. He suddenly realized his mistake in telling her. Of course she would be appalled and horrified at him slitting another man's throat. It was a grotesque thing to do. He seemed to shrink slightly, his pulse pounding in his ears. It felt like there was some sort of pressure in his skull, and he glanced down at his hands. He wished he could revert back to carefree times, like when he was just a boy walking barefoot through the streets. Now he was a man, a murderer, and he wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and escape. He was startled when she suddenly hugged him, afraid to return the gesture. He saw the tears in her eyes almost immediately, and his heart sank. Her gratitude felt forced, and the kiss to his cheek practically burned. His eyes followed her as she hesitated and refrained from taking his hand, feeling something deep inside of him break. He nodded briskly at her instructions and left the room, trying to stuff everything deep down inside, like he always did. He held it in nice and tight as he headed toward a small basin of scalding water near the stove that was with them below deck. He hastily washed his hands, ignoring the pain as his skin became a fierce red. When he was through, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He stood there like an idiot for a long while, trying to tamp everything down and back into place, where it belonged. He sat down by the warm stove, injured, tired, broken, and felt that emotion slipping down his cheeks in the form of wet tears. God, what was this?! Now he was crying like little wuss. What the hell happened to him? These questions danced through his mind, teasing him, but he ignored them. He didn't care. He didn't care if his entire crew saw him. He didn't care about much at that point. He stretched his legs out in front of him, the hot stove to his left. Lifting a hand, he reached out as if to touch it, feeling the heat roiling off it in waves.
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