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On Tortuga:
Grace *once the Brave docks at Tortuga,
she stands before the crew as they await instructions, speaks solemnly with an official air* We’ll
stay ‘ere fer a few days – or till we have useful information that might lead a group o’ humble pirates
te something o’ value, savvy? So keep a watchful eye an’ yer ears
open. Iffen ye hear o’ anything, keep yer wits about ye an’ don’t
go braggin’ about yer findings. We don’t want some other bloody pirate
gettin’ te the potential treasure ‘fore us. *With a dramatic wave*
Ye may go ashore … *the crew goes ashore in a loud fashion ready for rum
and women; Grace watches them leave and gazes at the island for a bit. Last time
she was here it was her and Donnie’s honeymoon; the thought saddens her a bit, but she quickly shakes it off remembering
that Donnie’s favourite part of Tortuga was
leaving it.*
Gibson *approaches her* Captain, do ye reckon we’ll find any o’
that useful information ye spoke of? Any pirate that’s not a fool won’t
give up the bearings te any treasure no matter how much drink he’s had.
Grace *grins* Aye, but then we’ll jus’ ‘ave te find
one that is a fool, eh? There be plenty o’ those among the pirates on Tortuga.
Gibson *laughs and nods knowingly* Aye, can’t argue with that reasoning.
Grace *goes ashore along with Gibson and instantly head for a tavern; Grace notices the suspicious glances thrown her
way, but isn’t sure what’s behind them. They enter the tavern and
almost as soon as she steps in, the patrons glance toward her and then whisper to their companions. Grace frowns, then rolls her eyes; speaks loudly* Oh aye, the
pirate witch is back. Now go on with yer business …
Gibson *quietly* I don’t reckon that’s what they’re
on about, Captain. Since ye were ‘ere last, it’s become known that
ye married a man o’ the law an’ some are … *pauses* not happy with that particular turn o’ events,
savvy?
Grace: Ah … so they think I’ve switched sides, eh? *Angrily* Bloody fools! I
would ne’er dishonour the pirate code by rattin’ out another pirate! *Thinks
for a moment, then grins a little; speaks to Gibson loud enough for the others to hear* Oh
aye, I left that husband o’ mine at home. Can’t ‘ave him getting’
in the way o’ some honest pirating. *For a moment it seems as if the other
patrons are considering what she’s saying and soon after they continue on with their business as usual; Grace smiles
victoriously* There, that oughta do it.
On Enterré Vivant:
Manouche *watches
warily as the boy leads her into the middle of the crowd; all eyes are upon her, and a man steps forward. He’s dressed essentially the same as the others, but he wears a vest over his shirt, black with gold
embroidery, adorned with about a half dozen amulets made of silver or gold. He
also wears gold filigree cuff bracelets on both wrists. He stands before her,
his expression intent but not fierce. She nods respectfully* I come in peace, mate, I intend no harm … savvy?
Man *murmurs* English. *he looks at the boy, nods* Thank you, Yoska. *the boy releases Manouche’s arm, steps back slightly, continues to look on. Man turns to Manouche* I am Vero Narvala, leader of the Athinganoi. *waves a hand to indicate the people standing around them* What has brought you here? *Yoska waves his hands, uses a
sort of sign language to indicate something to Vero Narvala; points at Manouche* Oh,
I see. *he turns to Manouche again* Yoska
cannot speak. But he gets his messages across to us in ways we understand. He says the music attracted you.
Manouche: Oh … aye, I’m right
fond of it, an’ this lot *she nods toward the musicians* they was goin’ at it pure dead brilliant. *she looks at Yoska* Y’say he can’t talk? Why?
Vero Narvala: He’s never been able to.
What are you called?
Manouche *draws herself up, responds with dignity* I’m called Manouche
… Captain Manouche Roussel Blake … an’ I’ve come t’ claim what’s mine.
Vero Narvala *eyes narrowed* And what would that be?
Manouche: Th’ Sikaimunchon. *she blinks as all the murmured conversations that had resumed stop again, and once
more everyone turns to stare at her. She ignores them, maintains her eye contact
with Vero Narvala* It belongs t’ me.
I’m obliged to ye fer keepin’ it all this time. Now if ye’d
be so kind, I’d like it back. *smiles with a confidence she’s far
from feeling*
Vero Narvala *raises eyebrows* It belongs to you? *glances toward the cave, then back to Manouche* How can we
know this to be true? *Manouche says nothing, rolls up her sleeve, revealing
the painted design that matches the characters above the cave. Vero Narvala looks
at her, eyes wide* It would appear you have a claim to the Sikaimunchon. *he looks around, sees the crowd has gathered around again;
waves a hand, and they disperse, resuming the celebration, though the music becomes softer, slower. Vero Narvala motions for Manouche to follow him, takes her to an edge of the clearing near the food
table* Please, sit down. *she sits
on one of the thick mats on the ground, he goes to the table, takes a large, deep bowl, pours liquid from it into two heavy
cups; brings them to her, hands her one, sits down across from her* Sastimos.
Manouche *holds up her drink* Sastimos.
*she takes a drink, then lowers the cup, gasping for breath, choking, eyes watering, trying not to cough* Blimey … hundred proof, that!
Vero Narvala *watches her mildly, a tiny hint of a smile; takes a drink* You’re
of Romany blood, so I know you can be trusted. You have your secrets, but that’s
to be expected. I can tell that you would not abuse the power of the Sikaimunchon. We’ve guarded it for many years. You’re aware of the legend, how only the rightful and trusted can even so much as pick it up. Even we Athinganoi, who are here to look over it, cannot handle it with bare hands. It’s been easy to guard for that very reason.
Many have tried to take it, always foolish, blustering, greedy men who burst upon us, threatened us, dashed into the
cave, grabbed it without a thought … all have failed. And all have lived
just long enough to deeply regret trying. I’m sure I don’t have to
tell you those poor souls suffered greatly for their attempts. I admit, it will
be a relief to be rid of it. *looks at her keenly* There’s something
else about you, I cannot place it … *pauses, then sternly* If it truly
belongs to you, then you needn’t fear the consequences of handling it.
Manouche *listens closely, shakes her head* No
… I’ve no fear. *takes another drink, more carefully this time, then
nods toward Vero Narvala* Pardon me mentionin’ it, but I couldn’t
help noticin’ yer limp. ‘Ave ye an injury?
Vero Narvala
*looks down at his right foot, curled underneath him, nods* I’ve had it
for awhile … I stepped on something, it’s not been right since. *looks
at her, understanding coming into his expression* You are drabengi?
Manouche *smiles* Ye do know a bit o’
th’ Rom tongue, that’s a fact. I dabble in alchemy a bit. Not sure I could help, but I could ‘ave a look, if yer keen.
Vero Narvala *hesitates a moment, then pulls his foot up, removes the soft moccasin carefully, wincing a little* Our healer has tried but was unsuccessful …
Manouche *examines the wound, nods* I ‘ave
an idea. *she jumps up, goes to the table, sees a pitcher, sniffs at it,
finds that it’s water; pours some into a bowl. She removes some of the
leaves and blossoms from her pockets that she’d gathered as she had made her way through the jungle, then brings out
a cigarette, breaks it open, taps in a little tobacco. She then finds a small
vial in another pocket, adds a few drops of a homemade potion to the mix. Picks
up a large wooden spoon and mashes everything together till it forms a paste. She
brings this back to Vero Narvala, sits down before
him and carefully spreads it on the wound* Yer lucky there don’t seem t’
be anythin’ stuck under th’ skin. This should start workin’
right quick. *she glances up at the musicians, who have broken into a faster
tempo song; looks at Vero Narvala, grins* Ye’ll be up an’ dancin’
again in no time.
Vero Narvala *starts to say something, then stops, looks down in amazement, moves his foot slightly* It … it’s feeling much better already. *looks
at her, incredulous* How did you do that?
Manouche: Most o’ what I used is right in yer own backyard, as it
were. *holds up vial* I did add
this. It’s no black magic, jus’ a little somethin’ I come up
with once, made t’ order fer a wound such as yers. I keep some on me when
I’m travelin’. *shrugs, smiles slightly* Sometimes I’m a bit accident prone. *hands him the vial* ‘Ere, mate, ye can keep th’ rest.
Use it sparin’ly, savvy? It don’t take much.
Vero Narvala *takes the bottle, examines it* I thank you. *puts it in a pocket, sits quietly for a few minutes, as if sorting something in his mind. Finally he looks at her again* It’s time. And I know your time is limited. *waves a hand toward the
cave* There’s where you’ll find the Sikaimunchon.
Manouche *looks at him curiously, nods* Cheers,
mate. *she stands up, walks to the entrance of the cave, peers in cautiously;
looks back at Vero Narvala, who nods reassuringly. She turns back to the cave, squares her shoulders and enters*
On Tortuga:
Kat *Dismissing the crew to shore to seek their pleasures. Turns to one
of three that remained on board.* Sophy, ye're to keep an eye on Ichy. Trina and Lola can make certain none of them men get back on board.
When I return I'll be bringing a proper crew as well as passengers. Be
ready once all are aboard and we get the signal from the Sea Witch motioning towards another vessel at anchor nearby then
we must sail as swiftly as possible. *Turns and disembarks, making her way to
the secret meeting place to make sure all is in readiness and that the others have met her terms.*
At
Hanson’s apartment:
Hanson *after sitting at the office for hours going through the reports from the warehouse and the two murders possibly
connected to Abberline trying to figure out if the Commander is hiding the truth or not, he decided to call it a day. He would have liked to take a look at that video tape … as Brasco told him over
and over again, he has to be critical of everyone, even his superior. It’s
not that he particular likes Portsmith; he finds her to be kind of frightening really, but she is his superior. On his way he stopped by Grape’s to pick up some groceries and as he tries to balance the bag and
unlock the door, he tries to make up his mind about whether or not he’s hoping DeeDee is there … she’s a
pretty girl, no denying that. But sometimes she’s just SO annoying! He’s thought about ending the relationship, but you can’t dump a girl
so soon after she’s lost a family-member in such a violent way. A good
guy doesn’t do that. Maybe after the funeral. He finally gets the door unlocked and enters the apartment calling out* DeeDee,
you here?
DeeDee
*calls from the bathroom* Tommy please, will you help me a bit? *she appears in a most fetching mini length skirt* Can you
pull up the zipper* Casts a worried look at Hanson.* Do you think that I am getting fat? My collarbone doesn't
really show through the cloth, does it? What did you bring for supper? I am sooo hungry .. Dad told me that he ordered a pair of
silver sandalettes with gems for me for the funeral ... I was thinking of having smoky eyes, it kind of suits a gloomy occasion
like that.
Hanson *sets down the grocery bag on the kitchen table and meets DeeDee in the bedroom adjoining
the bathroom from which she emerges; looks at her, raises his eye-brows* Fat? You barely eat! *Smiles a little* You look beautiful as always. *Helps
her with the zipper* I didn’t know if you were going to be here, it’s
just frozen pizza, but I suppose we can order some take-out if you want. *Listens
to her talking about the funeral; barely resists the temptation to shakes his head and give her a speech about what normal
people think of in connection with a funeral; tells himself that maybe that’s her way of dealing with the loss* Uh, I don’t know what smoky eyes are … *jokingly* When I hear ‘smoky eyes’ I see red, puffy eyes. You
know, like when you’ve been in a smoky room for too long.
DeeDee
*frowns, then quickly her face goes straight in fear of getting wrinkles* Frozen
pizza? Tommy, I want a salad. A
fresh one. You know how much I hate limp salad. *she snatches a fashion
mag from the bedroom floor* Look, here it is.
It's nothing like the horror you mean. *She shows him a picture with an
extremely skinny model with a child's face and lots of black eye shadow smudged around her eyes* Smoky eyes. *she sighs* Isn't she pretty? So perfectly skinny and young.
Hanson *looks at the picture and makes a face as if he’s about to have seconds thought about
that pizza himself* No, it’s worse.
She looks like a corpse! She’s practically a skeleton … *looks
quizzically at DeeDee* You really want to look like that? *Shakes his head* Anyway, if you want salad, you’ll
have to order in or go to the market. I only have beer, pizza, sandwich bread
and peanut butter. Sorry honey.
DeeDee
*shrugs* Yes, I wish I could be her ... Though it seems to me that she has a
tummy, don't you think? Well, no one is perfect.
Okay, I'll order something on my way out. There's a special evening at
the Badonkadonk club. *she winks her eye, puts on her high silver sandals*
I am going out with the girls. It's a kind of .. of.. it's a memorial
gathering about Salome.
Outside
Chateau Blanchefort:
Isabella *cautiously moves closer to the tall fence surrounding the castle grounds keeping an eye
over her shoulder. A couple of days ago she came across a most interesting book
in the back-room of Sarah’s store concerning Celtic stone circles; “The Mystiques of Celtic Stone Circles”.
The book instantly captivated her and she tried comparing Portsmith’s stone
circle to one mentioned in the book that supposedly possessed great powers, but the pictures she had of Portsmith’s
circle were taken from afar and she couldn’t make out the details properly. This
would all be a lot easier if she could just ask the Commander for permission to study the stone circle in detail, but given
their short history there doesn’t seem to be much point. Isabella circles
the entire Chateau ground hoping to find a weakness in the tall fence that she can slip through, but to no avail. However, she’s not about to let little details like that stop her. She’s
not careless enough to attempt going over the fence with her knowledge of the security cameras. Isabella smiles a little as she thinks to herself that Portsmith is not the only one who can use technology
to her advantage. Moving as close to the stone circle on her side of the fence
as possible she opens her camera bag and pulls out the long-lens Nikon. It’s
not a camera that your average hobby photographer carries; Isabella doesn’t even use it very often. It’s heavy and impractical, but it takes great shots and with the strong lens she can capture the
details needed to do the comparison to the stone circle from the book. She photographs
the inscriptions in the stones, adjusts the zoom and photographs the circle in its entirety to get a sense of the placement
of the stones. Satisfied that she has what she needs, she replaces the camera
and leaves.*
At
Chez Roux:
Abberline
*trying to cure his hangover with a glass of absinthe, stuff he hasn't touched for a long time, in a shady lonely
booth in Chez Roux, lights a cigarette. He knows that he should call Donnie immediately and hand him Manouche's recording,
but he doesn't feel like talking to anyone. Nor does it much matter if they come and throw him into a dungeon ... And
least of all, he doesn't want to confront his children, though he misses them so his heart starts to ache. He should just stop drinking before he gets drunk again, rise up and go home. But he doesn't. The bar or a den sound more likely choices
to him now. He didn't share the worry of Perhan for Manouche, and the Gypsy seemed
to be relieved to get rid of him. Now, for the first time, he understands that
Manouche was really taken by the Guardians, but he's not worried. She can always
cope and land on her feet. Unlike him.
He tastes the absinthe, muttering to himself, thinking of her but not really trying to connect to her.* Manouche, I am miserable ...
Donnie *the small cabin felt so quiet and big and only reminded him that Grace had taken off. He just couldn’t stay there a minute longer.
So he got in his car and drove into town. He enters Chez Roux and immediately
head for the bar; he orders a brandy and as he turns to look for an empty booth, he spots Abberline. Walks over to him and sits down across from him; looks at him reproachfully.* Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over town
for you! I know that you didn’t do the things a great number of people
claim you did, but escaping from Security really didn’t help your case.
Daphne
*enters Chez Roux after some aimless walking, something she does more and more these days.
She still feels such pain from everything she went through that she told to Candy, and the impending funeral only adds
to her melancholy. She almost goes straight to her room, then decides to have
a drink; she wonders rather hopefully whether William Blake will be there. She
enjoyed his company so much, he was so kind, she couldn’t help but think, in another time and another place, if he were
free, she could be interested in him. But now she feels she has nothing to give;
she doesn’t feel like going down that path with anyone, and she wonders if she’ll ever want to try to give her
heart again. She enters the bar, then stops in her tracks as she sees Abberline. She approaches him, smiling a little warily*
Inspector … hi, it’s me, Daphne …
Abberline
*looks with a blank expression at Donnie, but then his eyes go wide as he sees Daphne. For
a moment it seems as if Salome were alive again, but actually, seeing Daphne seems to be a greater shock to
him, he winces, shakes his head, turns to Donnie, snaps at him.* For the
first, I am not escaping anywhere. I don't need to hide. If you think so, you are very wrong. *snarls to him, tossing
the small device on the table in front of Donnie.* How about that. S'evidence for you and your little helper. And if you are trying
to clap me in irons and arrest me again in front of an audience, I do have my weapon. And
I will use it. *He looks curiously and at the same time warily at Daphne.* That's
really you ... You look different ... *he smiles a wistful smile* You used
to call me Freddie ... Care to join me getting drunk?
Donnie *rolls his eyes* As I’m sure Manouche
told you, I’ve been trying to help you, you ungrateful … *searches for the right word* … twit! And if I hadn’t been running all over town for your sake, maybe I would’ve
had a chance to prevent my own life from falling apart. *He’s really angry
with Grace, but she’s not there and someone must be blamed; angrily* But
as usual you’re too self-absorbed to even consider how you’re actions affect anyone else than you! *Snatches up the device and places it in his pocket* I’ll
take a look at it … *glances at Daphne then looks back at Abberline; coldly* Enjoy
your evening … *rises from his seat, glares back* You’re by the way
not the only one who carries a weapon and knows how to use it, Inspector. *the
last word dripping with contempt; downs the brandy and walks off*
Abberline
*mutters after him* Insolent idiot ...
Daphne *looks at Donnie curiously and a little apologetically, then to Abberline; she smiles* I didn’t think it was right to call you Freddie anymore. I
got thinking, I bet you never did like it very much. I’d like us to be
friends now, if we can … and it is good to see you. *she slides into the
booth* I’m here for Salome’s funeral.
I’ve been trying not to drink too much, it’s not a good idea when everything around you is … well,
not so great. But tonight, it sounds like a good idea. *she peers at his glass* What’s that you’re drinking,
absinthe? I’d love some. *pauses,
blinks back tears* Have you been assigned to investigate who killed Salome? I’m trying to be patient, but … I don’t understand why I’m
not hearing anything from anyone about it. *sniffs, pulls out a handkerchief, murmurs* I'm sorry ... *laughs a
little* Oh dear, what would you like for me to call you?
Abberline
*shrugs, watching Donnie leave* Why do you say I didn't like you? *he orders her an absinthe and one for himself* Not Pink
Squirrel? *then he grows serious again*
I am not investigating anything. I am under investigation ... I met Salome briefly
... They can't release the body until they find the culprit, I believe. *he
lights yet one cigarette* Absinthe, it's a good poison, almost as good as opium, dulls the mind. I am in need of that. Maybe it would do good to you too. *he smiles, more for himself than her* You
are the only one who ever called me Freddie. If you want. *he sighs again* I thought I'd sit here alone, but if you're
into numbing your mind too, you are welcome to join.
Daphne: Noo, I don’t drink Pink Squirrels anymore.
What do you mean, you’re under investigation? That’s absurd! It has to be a mistake. No wonder you
want to get drunk! *tastes the absinthe, nods approvingly. She takes a cigarette from her purse, leans in as Abberline holds up a light for her. She studies him for a few minutes* I don’t believe I’ll
call you Freddie. That was a lover’s name.
*smiles almost shyly* I think I’ll call you Frederick. That’s probably a little more dignified, after all, you’re
a married man now. You have two children … Candy told me about them. I already knew about Raven, and what an amazing boy he is. I’d love to get the chance to see Chiana. But I don’t
want to cause any trouble between you and Kat. How is she? I bet she’s mad as a hornet at the idea of anyone investigating you.
*takes another drink*
Abberline:
I don't care about that bloody investigation. *looks
at his half-empty glass* I was a married man yesterday. Now ... I don't know. Something happened to Kat ... I'd
rather not talk about it. *he drinks the absinthe, thinks about Kat, and Raven
and Chiana.* It's amazing how fast one can lose everything ... As for Kat, I
wish I knew what she is thinking and where she is. *he takes his wallet
and opens it, shoves it to her so she can see the photo of Chiana he carries with him.* That's my daughter. She looks just like Kat, doesn't she?
Daphne
*smiles as she looks at the picture* Oh, she’s absolutely beautiful! She does look very much like her mother. But
I see some of you in her, too. Candy tells me she’s very much daddy’s
girl. *she takes another drink, looks at him sympathetically* You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.
I’ve lost a lot in recent times, and … I’m not ready to talk to everyone about that, either. I was very much in love, and … well, maybe I’ll tell you about it another
time. Candy wants me to stay here, move back to Deppville. I told her I wasn’t sure, I just want to get through all this first.
Abberline
*smiles sadly* We've both lost our loves ... *he looks one more time at the photo
and puts the wallet away, then orders more drinks. He's beginning to feel better,
the liquor starts to work. He think of Kat, who will never be back with him. Because of Kidd. What kind of healing
is that? He looks at Daphne in the eyes.
She's beautiful and she was fun, but that's all there was to her. He drinks
his glass, lights a cigarette feeling, and his head starts to feel light. He
catches her eyes with his own dark intense smouldering look* Can I come to your room?
Daphne
*looks at him, startled, feels her heart skip a beat at the look in his handsome eyes, the look she remembers well* Y-you’ve lost your love? Are you sure? I know you don’t want to talk about it, but … it sounds like something that just happened. *she lowers her eyes, concentrates on her drink, stealing glances at him from under
her thick lashes. She can’t deny that she’s tempted; she remembers
how much fun they had. Regretfully, she sets down her glass, puts her hand over
his* You should make sure your marriage is over, Freddie. *she giggles a little nervously* I wasn’t going to call
you that! *looks serious again* I
… I’d love to ask you up to my room, but … I’m afraid it might be a little too soon for both of us. I do want to spend more time with you, but … I don’t want to have to be
your secret … or your regret. *she watches him anxiously, squeezes his
hand slightly*
Abberline
*caressing her hand with his long sensitive fingers, keeping eyes locked with her* I
know. I shouldn't have said that. She's
just gone and she won't be back, not the woman I married ... It's worse than death ... I am just afraid to go home and
face my children. They will know that everything has gone horribly wrong. I am sorry. I am not into any relationship.
*he squeezes her fingers and leans closer to her, strokes her cheek with
his other hand* I guess I just wanted you to help me through the night ...
Daphne *frowns* What’s worse than death? I don’t understand … *she gets flustered as he leans closer and caresses her, feels herself
blushing a little* If you could explain it to me better, maybe then … I
mean, I don’t want to do something if it could still hurt Kat. An' I want to have more than just getting
through one night. There are lots of girls who could do that for you. *she pauses, feels herself blushing a little* H-how ‘bout
we take a walk, instead? It’s such a pretty night, we could walk by the
beach. I do care about you, Freddie. *she
smiles at him a little wistfully* We did have fun, didn’t we? Remember the chandelier, and the kitchen table? *giggles*
On Enterré Vivant:
Manouche
*enters the cave cautiously, glancing around, trying to adjust her eyesight to the darkness.
There’s very little light other than tiny rays of sun filtering through the cracks in the rock above. The stony walls glisten with condensation, and the only sounds are the drip of water from the dampness,
and odd sounds from tiny insects and reptiles – strange creatures she’s never seen before. She makes her way deeper inside, then she sees an eerie light glowing up ahead, around the bend. She turns the corner and sees a small platform of rock, almost as if it had been hewn through centuries
to serve the purpose it now fills – a primitive showcase for the Sikaimunchon.*
*Manouche approaches it slowly, staring with awe at the beautiful, perfectly smooth stone,
which seems to glow with a soft blue inner light. It’s a sinister beauty,
however, as if it warns the observer to be careful what one wishes for. But it
is most irresistible … the multitude of glorious, shimmering colors that seem to never stop changing right before the
eyes. Manouche can hardly pull her gaze from it.
With an effort, she finally averts her eyes, snaps out of it; business before pleasure.
She’ll have time enough to examine it further once she has it far away from here, safe in the Guardians’
possession. She recalls Vero Narvala’s comments about the horrible fate of the men who had tried to take the Sikaimunchon in the past … and she remembers what the Leader had told her before
she set out:*
You’ll succeed where others have failed because
of your blood, Dreamer. It will protect you.
Do not try to pick up the Sikaimunchon unprepared.
*She thinks of their words now as she reaches into her coat, takes out her knife, winces
as she makes a quick, clean slice on one hand, letting the blood flow, then rubbing it between her hands. When she’s sure both hands are well covered, she puts the knife away, reaches over and picks up the
Sikaimunchon. It emits a strange humming sound and warms at her touch, its aura strengthening;
she trembles, but maintains her hold on it. She pauses for a moment, the sensations
from the power of the object almost overwhelming; then it finally seems to settle down somewhat, and her head is cleared,
and she turns to leave the cave. About halfway to the entrance she stops, suddenly
alert and knowing something is wrong; she no longer hears the music outside. She
edges closer to the cave opening, stops short and gasps in horror at the sight. She
isn’t sure how long she’s been in the cave; it seems like only a few moments, but she knows it was longer than
that. She sees now that it was at least long enough for some cruel force to have
come through and broken up the party, killing in cold blood about a dozen of the men and women, their bodies lying motionless
on the ground. The shock of the deathly silence, so abrupt after the joyous sounds
of hypnotic music and soft voices conversing, singing or laughing, brings tears to Manouche’s eyes, and she blinks them
away quickly. She listens carefully, wondering if the cave is being watched,
wondering what happened to Vero Narvala and the other
people. She considers pulling her gun, but she’s afraid to loosen her hold
on the Sikaimunchon … *
*As she’s trying to decide what to do, she’s unaware of a presence above and
behind her … a snake, reed-thin, forest green, sliding along the wall, silently inching closer to her … it rears
back, and with lightning speed it shoots forward, fangs bared, strikes her on the back of the neck and retracts as quickly
as it struck. Manouche howls with pain, is thrown off balance, and the Sikaimunchon
flies from her hands, rolls toward the cave opening. She drops to the ground
to scramble after the Sikaimunchon, following it through the cave entrance, and stopping abruptly as a heavy cutlass is swung
before her, barring her from going any further. Her eyes follow the blade to
the hilt, travel upward to look at the face of her adversary, a slender, leathery-skinned man with scars on his face, smoking
a large hand-rolled cigarette. He growls something harshly to her in a language
she doesn’t understand, and she swallows as she sees his hand tighten on the sword.
Then they both look away as they hear a shout. One of the man’s
accomplices has seen the Sikaimunchon and runs to fetch it. He picks it up triumphantly,
entranced by the object’s beauty; then he shudders, his eyes bulge, and he starts to make horrible choking sounds. Manouche watches in horror as the Sikaimunchon seems to work to disintegrate the man
from the hand forward … his hand, then arm, slowly blacken as if he’s been seriously burned, then the blackening
works its way all over his body, his horrific screams ringing through the jungle. Finally
the figure of the man crumbles to the ground, no more than a pile of cinders.*
*Manouche glances up, sees her captor standing in stunned silence, then he cries out the
other man’s name; she quickly jumps to her feet, kicks the cutlass away, draws her sword and kills him before he can
recover from the surprise. She hears footsteps, turns to see two more men running
toward her, and she braces herself to fight. They stop for a moment, snarl something
in the same strange tongue, then one of them points toward the Sikaimunchon, lying near the heap of ash that was once their
cohort. He reaches for the Sikaimunchon, and Manouche and the third man watch
him suffer the same fate. The dying man drops the Sikaimunchon to the ground,
it rolls toward Manouche, and she easily picks it up, her hands still covered with her blood.
The remaining man stares at her in disbelief; she smiles disarmingly, shrugs*
Gypsy. Dreamer … pirate. *the
man curses, and Manouche’s smile fades quickly as she sees more men appear, heavy swords drawn, their cruel eyes fixed
on her with the same murderous glare. She clutches the Sikaimunchon, raises her
sword and starts to fight, for there’s no other way to escape from the cave opening to the path that leads away from
the clearing, through the jungle and back to the beach. She’s amazed as
she manages to hold her own though outnumbered, and she reckons the Sikaimunchon must have something to do with it. She kills another one and manages to hold off the rest till she gets to the path, then she turns and runs
for all she’s worth, her adversaries hot on her heels … *
At the Security office:
Donnie
*sits in his – or Abberline's – office; he takes out the device Abberline gave him and switches it on. He knows that he really shouldn't be surprised at the confessions about Portsmith's elaborate schemes, but
he still finds himself a little shocked at how far-reaching they really are. He
replays the film pausing at intervals to take notes for his report on the case and once done, he goes into the small AV room
at the Security Office and makes a copy knowing that if he gives the film to Portsmith it'll mysteriously vanish and then
be claimed never to have existed. He places the copy in his pocket, then writes
up his full report on the case and files it under "solved". He leaves the office
and heads for Chateau Blanchefort with the original film and a copy of his report, ready to confront Portsmith*
At Stratford Castle:
Mistress Fiore *walks up
and down the corridors of Stratford castle looking for Sweeney; Sweeney sits in his office trying to stay out of
Fiore’s way. Mistress Fiore is full hath not only has Portsmith ignored her she still hasn’t gotten her family
land back. Mistress has seemed to develop another problem only the worst problem in the world her sister is in town. Sweeney
looks at the floor plans of his barbershop when suddenly Mistress burst through the door
Mistress Fiore: * face is
red with anger at Sweeney, he was ordered to dispose of her sister. She raises her voice in anger* Sweeney.
Sweeney: *sensing he is in
trouble he approaches the question with some hesitantly* Yes my sweet pea how can I help you.
Mistress: *still red with
anger, her stare bores holes into Sweeney, she still shouts* what the hell are playing at why did you not get rid of her.
Sweeney: * Sweeney winches*
my sweet pea I do not know what you are talking about.
Mistress: *still full
of hath and it grows even bigger as Sweeney is trying to make fool out of her* that disgusting creature called my sister.
Sweeney: *realising what
she said he thinks of how he can get out of it* I did my sweet pea, you saw the pictures, I did as I was told. *Thinks of
an excuse knowing that she is right even a demon barber of Fleet street is scared of a angry Mistress Fiore* I sorted her
out you will never see her again.
Mistress: Then what the hell
is this then *she throws a set of pictures down on the table* Now tell me Sweeney if you want to live for very much longer
why the hell did you ignore my orders.
Sweeney: *terrified but doesn’t
show it he is asserts himself* I couldn’t do it because she was a woman Mistress, when I went to do it I saw your eyes
and I couldn’t kill her.
Mistress: Your pathetic Sweeney
I cannot believe the Demon Barber of Fleet Street could kill any one, you disgust me Sweeney. In fact I want you to go down
there and I want you to do it, if not I shall get a real man to do it. *Mistress storms out of the office slamming the door
behind her. The priceless paintings shudder at the strength of Mistress slamming. An unfortunate maid happened to be in the
way of Mistress* what the hell do you think you are doing I have not paid you to stand there and do nothing. *Mistress takes
her anger out on her* now for your punishment I shall cut your wages in half for this month. *The maid starts to sob* the
way you are going your lucky even to have a job now get out of my sight.
Sweeney:
*decides that it is best that he does what he is told. Sweeney heads towards his closet where he pulls out all of his implements.
He takes his waistcoat off the hanger and puts it on slowly fastening it up. He likes to do this slowly he smiles to himself
knowing that he is finally going to have some fun. He proceeds to put his belt on he straps it around his leg as well ready
for his blade. He walks over to the cabinet where he keeps his blades. He pulls out a number of blades he caress them, he
picks up his favourite the mother of pearl handled straight razor, this blade is the sharpest of them all. He locks the cabinet
and places the blade into the holding pouch on his belt. He heads out of his office and down the long corridor and down the
stairs to the front entrance. Smith stands at the door with his jacket*. Tell the Mistress I have gone out Smith I shall not
been needing your services *Sweeney grins to himself with an evil glint in his eyes*
Smith:
I shall inform her immediately, good bye sir. *He opens the door and Sweeney slips out, Mistress comes from around the corner*
Mistress:
What a stupid fool *she sniggers to herself*
At a modest little
castle in Scotland:
*The orange sky as the sun sets over the magnificent Edinburgh Castle creates the perfect background for the small, private ceremony taking place in the beautiful
Princess Street Garden in Edinburgh, Scotland. Their hands joined a couple stands in front
of a minister with a small group of people looking on with smiles on their faces – 5 young boys, an elderly woman and
another elderly couple. From afar the scene looks positively picturesque and moving closer it becomes even more beautiful
as you see the way the couple gaze lovingly at each other as they vow to spend their lives together and so completing their
union. Near the end of the ceremony, the couple exchanges rings and share a deep kiss before the minister finally presents
them to the small group of on-lookers as husband and wife.*
*Later at a hotel not far from the Princes Street Garden … *
*The newlyweds lie closely together in the large four-poster bed facing each other quietly smiling … *
Sarah *gently traces the contours of Barrie’s face; smiles as he takes her hand and kisses it. As
she looks into his eyes so full of affection, she feels so full of love for him and so happy, she fears she may burst* So, tell me, Mr. Barrie. Are you happy?
Barrie *kisses her hand again; smiles softly* More
so than I thought humanly possible, Mrs. Barrie.
Sarah *sighs contently* I love my new name. *Leans over and meets his lips in a kiss* I love you.
Barrie: I love you … *slides under the cover
and with his arms around her kisses her bare stomach* And you too, little one.
*Sarah laughs at him, then lets out a soft moan as he plants a trail of kisses
as if intending to kiss every inch of her while softly caressing her naked body with his hands … *
At the post office:
Blake *walks into town from Rartigillichal, his mind far away, his hand on the letter in his pocket. He’s written a reply to his ex-fiancée, and though Alifi advised him to wait till Manouche returned
and discuss it with her, he’s decided he’s ready to respond. Besides,
he thinks to himself unhappily, he has no idea when Manouche will be home. He
can’t wait any longer, he feels a definite need to answer. His memories
and uncertainties are far too stirred up by the letter he received. He approaches
the outside of the post office, takes the letter from his pocket, looks at it one last time, then resolutely drops it into
the mailbox outside the building. He turns to head toward the docks, when he
sees someone running toward him; he’s stunned to see that it’s Perhan*
Perhan *breathing hard* Blake! Thank
god … *runs up to him, tries to catch his breath* Blake, we’re in
trouble … I mean, Manouche … she’s in trouble …
Blake *stares at him, not sure he’s hearing right* Wh-what do you
mean, what’re you saying? *grabs Perhan by the front of his jacket* What’s happened to her, where is she?
Perhan *it’s a long story, I’ll tell you on the way to collect Malachi.
We’ve got to go find her, we’ve got to take the ship back out an’ find her, she’s … she’s
lost, Blake, she’s out there somewhere. *stops, looks at him sympathetically* Apologies, I’m not even giving you time to say whether you can go or not. I just assumed …
Blake *feels his heart pounding heavily in his chest, fear washing over him.
He glances back at the mailbox, then looks at Perhan, nods firmly* You
assumed right. Let’s go. I’m sure Malachi’s
at la Maison de Paradis. *they head for the street to hail a cab, and Blake thinks to himself, so much for uncertainties. There’s only one certainty in his life right now: Manouche*
On Tortuga:
Kat *Approaches
a door and knocks. The door is opened by a dark haired woman* 'as all gone
accordin' te plan, Ivy???
Ivy *Nods and
steps back to allow Kat to enter* Exactly as planned.
Kat *Steps
inside and is surrounded at once by several men with swords drawn. With
a quick glance at Ivy, replies* So it would seem.
Man in charge
*As his men relieve her of her weapons* Yer to be locked away 'til we get round
te 'angin' ye. *Snidely* Wenches
liberation movement. *Spits on the floor*
What a load o' crap. *Tossing a leather pouch to Ivy* There be yer reward, woman. *Ivy catches it and watches as
Kat is led away.*
At Chateau Blanchefort:
Donnie
*knocks on the large door and waits impatiently for someone to answer, not caring one bit about what time of day it is.*
Wilson: *as usually opens the door,
with Netta peeking at the guest curiously at the guest. She is wearing one of Portsmith's parade hats, the one with two
yellow feathers, holding one of the ferrets* You are here to see Commander Portsmith, Officer Brasco, I presume. After
me, sir, I'll show you to her study.
Donnie: Yes, thank you, Wilson. *Follows Wilson through the great hall and into Portsmith’s office* Commander Portsmith,
I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that the Abberline case has been solved.
Portsmith:
*looks astonished up at Donnie.* Really? Well, let me see? How soon do you think we can throw him into the dungeons?
Donnie: *coldly* Before you throw anyone in the dungeon, you might want to take a look at this…*pulls
out the small device with the film from his pocket and puts it down in front of Portsmith, then places the written report
on the desk as well. Looks at her reproachfully, his voice full of disgust* This is low, even for you.
Portsmith:
*calmly, switches it on, and grabs the report. After the recording ends, she slaps at the papers* And you believe this all?
How very convenient, isn't it, that this kind of recording popped up now? As for those photos, Ivan is simply lying in his
usual way. I have nothing whatever to do with any fakes. *imperiously* That is not my style, as you should know.
So. But, what about the murders he is accused of? There's nothing here about them? I don't think that this case still is solved.
And, what if all the accusations were fake? His reputation as a Security Officer is gone anyway. *she looks at him* What would
you say about a promotion?
At Sarah’s Books:
*The cab pulls up by Sarah’s Books; Barrie exits the car and then opens the door for Sarah. The driver helps them in with their luggage
and takes off after Barrie has paid him for the fare*
Sarah: *picks up the stack of mail and quickly goes through it, sorting the important mail from the junk. Flips open
the newspaper from today and turns to the announcements page.*
Barrie: *looking over her shoulder* Is it in?
Sarah: *points to a picture of the two of them with a little text underneath the picture* Right there…
Mr. James Matthew Barrie & Miss Sarah Moon were married in a private ceremony on June 1st in Edinburgh, Scotland. The couple also happily announces that
Mrs. Barrie is expecting their first child and is due early December.
At From Hell Court:
Sweeney *walks through the
crowded streets of From Hell court it is now growing darker, the best time for rich pickings. Sweeney starts to think is it
time now all these tarts, no one will miss them. Sweeney no longer cares for what Mistress Fiore says even if she does scare
him. The streets grow darker and darker and the atmosphere changes tarts and their men fill the streets, rich men looking
for their favourites. This is the time when he will find the woman he is looking for. A female walks through the court she
looks for her next victim, a rich man in a top hat looking at his pocket watch. She sets eyes on him, Sweeney slinks into
an empty dark alleyway. The woman walks towards the alleyway; Sweeney wraps his arm around her and covers her mouth with his
hand. Sweeney drags the woman in to the alleyway and the woman struggles, she tries to grab her cutlass but she cannot. Sweeney
begins to talk to her to calm her down
Sweeney: Now petal calm yourself
down if you don’t then you will have to say hello to my little friend *laughs, the woman calms down she recognises that
laugh* Now petal I will let you go but you mustn’t run. We are going to play a little game of guess who *Sweeney puts
the woman down and Kisses her deeply. The female kisses him back*
Woman: Ah Sweeney luv wha’
bring’s ye to this part o’ town
Sweeney: Ah Noelle your beloved
sister made me look for you to kill you off again
Noelle: Ah I see o’
course ye will hav’ to make it quick
Sweeney: *Sweeney brushes
her hair off her face* Noelle I
Noelle: There be
none of ye sentimental crap, I canna' be dealin with a bag of emontions Sweeney. I jus' canna wha' ‘appened to
ye voice. I see she turned ye into the worse kind o’ man a decent ‘onest man at that.
Sweeney: I wouldn’t
say decent Noelle *Laughs, and he starts to think it has been a long time since he has had a customer. Sweeney feels like
a completely different man when he is with her he can feel the piracy and murder run through his veins.* Now Noelle it has
been a long time since we *Before Sweeney can finish Noelle kisses him deeply and they have their fun.* Noelle luv ye aint
forgotten have ye.
Noelle: Aye that be better
Sweeney luv that be the way I like ye, be none of ye posh talk savvy
Sweeney: Savvy
Noelle: Now ‘ow be
me delightful sister
Sweeney: the same ol’
same ol’ stuck up self, only be wantin the bloody land an sea and seein my pirate queen dead.
Noelle: Don’t ye fear
luv I can look after meself
Sweeney: Noelle you ever
feel as though sometime ye made the wrong decision
Noelle: Aye I do then I have
some rum
Sweeney: Rum I could do with
that
Noelle:
Aye rum
On Enterré Vivant:
Manouche *running, clutching the Sikaimunchon close, breathing heavily, feels
herself fading, the pain from the cut in her hand and the sharp throbbing from the snake bite making her feel dizzy. She hears the men closing in on her and fears she may drop any second; then she cries
out as someone grabs her from behind a tree, pulls her off the path. She turns
and sees that it’s Yoska, the boy who first found her when she watched the party, which now seems like it took place
years ago. He brings a finger to his lips, indicating for her to be quiet, and
they listen as they hear the men drawing near. They watch them run by, and when
the voices and footsteps have faded, she turns to him, smiles gratefully. He
nods, motions for her to follow him. He brings her to a tiny thicket just a few
feet from the path, and her heart sinks as she sees Vero Narvala, looking very pale, sitting on the ground, his
back against a tree* Oh, bloody ‘ell …
Vero Narvala *looks at her, eyes glazed with pain, sees that she’s carrying the stone* You were just in time. All
are better off with the Sikaimunchon in your possession rather than those …
those …
Manouche *drops down beside him* Save yer
strength, don’t try an’ talk …
Vero Narvala *shakes his head* The wound is deep, I haven’t much
time. I’ll rest easier knowing you succeeded. *takes the vial from his vest pocket, holds it out to her with a shaky hand* Here, take this back, you may need it. It’s powerful
medicine for one wound, but not for all.
Manouche *takes the vial, puts it in her pocket; looks at him, smiles slightly, blinking back tears* An’ h-how is that foot, then?
Vero Narvala *manages a smile, puts a hand softly on her arm* I’m
ready to dance … somewhere else. *he closes his eyes, his head drops down
on his chest*
Manouche *checks
his pulse, pushes a lock of his hair out of his face* Rest in peace, mate. Zhan le Devlesa tai sastimasa. *she rises
slowly, turns and sees Yoska watching solemnly.
She puts a hand on his shoulder* Sorry, luv.
Yoska *gazes at Vero Narvala for a moment, his
eyes very faraway; he then comes out of his trancelike state and motions for Manouche to follow him. He swiftly leads her in a different direction away from the path, using his spear to blaze a trail through
the brush. They finally emerge onto a beach and a little cove, not nearly as
formidable as the beach she had crossed from the Leader’s ship. He brings
her out onto the beach, points toward the cove, and she’s amazed to see a small sailing boat. He gestures, pointing at her, the ship, and back at the jungle, indicating the group of men after her*
Manouche *nods* I savvy. Th’ trail’s blocked,
they’ll be back. I’m to take this an’ find another way to th’
Guardians. Right? *Yoska nods enthusiastically. She looks at him reproachfully* Ye won’t
come with me, will ye? *he shakes his head firmly. She reaches into her coat, finds a second pistol she brought along, a smaller one but still highly effective* ‘Ere ye are. Take it, there’s
enough rounds fer all of ‘em, an’ more. *grimly* Pick off them bastards, savvy? No quarter. *Yoska takes
the gun from her, nods, puts it in his belt; he guides her with some urgency to the boat, helps her in, pushes the boat off
into the water. She turns, sees him watching her drift away; calls out* Yoska! *she digs in her pocket, finds
the harmonica, tosses it to him; he catches it and looks at it as if it’s a rare treasure. She smiles, and though she’s not sure he hears her, she adds*
May it help ye find yer voice, mate. *Yoska looks up, broadly smiles his
thanks to her, brings the harmonica to his lips and starts to play. Manouche
sinks down on the seat, weary to the bone, but resolutely takes up the oars, starts to row to sea. She glances down at the Sikaimunchon, settled in a safe spot on
the floor of the boat, glimmering softly. Yoska’s playing becomes
fainter, but she can still hear it as she drifts farther away; she raises her eyebrows in surprise. Maybe it’s the fever she’s feeling from the snake bite, because she doesn’t see how he
could possibly know it, but she could swear the song Yoska is playing is “Hoist the Colors.” She softly hums along with it, then starts to sing*
The King and his men stole the Queen from her bed and bound her in her bones
The sea be ours and by the powers, where we will, we'll roam
Yo ho, all together, hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die
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