"Goodnight, You Moonlight Ladies..."
Jul. 15th, 2006 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
psalm_onethirtyoneAhem. Davy Jones (PotC2)/Capt. Nemo (TMI). Organ-playing OTP for the win.
(When I saw the film? I was going eeeeeee, Norrington! ^____^. N., on the other hand, was going eeeeeeeeeeeeee SEXY SEXY SQUID-FACED MAN, EEEEEEEEEEE. I blame that.)
Lolligo
What had he expected from death?
His ship sank quietly and slowly into the water, the electric lights fading inside the cave. His eyes were dim, but the clouds that had been creeping in eyes for years had not yet taken his sight. He could see through the window of the salon the light and water shadows disappearing from the ceiling of the cave.
He had killed many men, and now he himself was dying. He had sent the children of the island away before the end, that he might be alone, and now--and now he was going back to the sea. It was the one thing he loved that had never been taken from him.
He belonged to the sea.
"I am the sea," it whispered.
Nemo lifted his head, although it was difficult and his neck ached, and looked directly as the window of the salon.
Outside, pressed against the glass, the squid looked directly back. The arms lengthened and undulated, and as he watched, he seemed to see a face; the eyes were almost human, the stretched skin covered a nose. The eyes--the eyes smiled at him, and again he heard it whispering,--
"I am the sea."
"I am No One." He could not move (he was too sick and old for that), but he spoke.
"Come out to me. Come out to me. I am the sea. You are mine. Come, come, come out." The voice and the arms moved like the sea, in and out, trembling and swirling with the currents, blue and green and black as the ocean at its deepest and palest. Nemo smiled back.
"I cannot."
"Come, come, come out," it whispered against his window.
"I am unable."
"I am the sea. You belong to the sea. You love the sea. You have always loved the sea. You say you love gods, you say you loved the woman, but you do not know. You have never known what you loved or what you trust except the sea. I am the sea. Come, come, come out," the squid whispered.
"I loved my gods. I loved the woman," Nemo said. He had loved the woman. He had loved her more than any other thing in the world except the children. But they were dead (as he would be soon).
"You love the sea."
"Yes, I love the sea."
"You do not know what will happen when you die. The only thing that is always the same is the sea. The sea is always safe, and loves you back. The sea feeds you and clothes you and houses you. The sea loves you. Come out to me."
"I cannot stand."
"Love the sea. Give your soul to the sea. Would you not rather trust the sea with your soul than the gods you do not know? You know the sea."
"Does the sea wish for my soul? She has given me everything. I will give her what she wants."
"The sea would like your soul. Come out. Give me your soul."
He lifted his tired arms and legs and pulled himself off the divan, coming to the window, touching his stiff arthritic fingers to the glass so that they met with the long arms of the squid. The squid's eyes still smiled, and the place that might have been a nose breathed. Nemo felt the weariness leaving him. He was not yet dead. He would not see the woman, and he would not see the beautiful children (laughing, playing, swimming, long brown arms and exquisite faces). Instead the sea was asking for him.
Slowly the glass began to splinter, shot through with cracks like the stone when the water runs inside and freezes. The fishnet of broken glass spread out, out, until the entire window was cloudy with them, like his eyes when he looked out.
Nemo pressed it, and the glass fell out. The sea came in.
"Here I am," he said.
"I am the sea," the squid whispered, its arms reaching out like the tide to draw him to it. He held out his hands and let the arms slide over his bare skin.
"I have always loved you," he said.
"Welcome, Prince."
The squid pulled him closer until he felt the arms and also another pair of arms, wrapt around him, and he understood that it was shaped partly like a squid and partly like a man, and it was the sea. One of the arms ended in a long arm covered with small suckers, his favourite octopus; the other was the claw of a king crab, sharp and strong. The squid became the face of the man-body, and a mouth opened in it, a mouth that smiled. Again it said,--
"Welcome, Prince."
Nemo lifted one of his hands to the squid-face, touching it with a slow wonder, part childlike and part scientist, part examiner, part student, part Prince. "You are not the woman."
"No."
"I believe I had always thought so. I loved the woman."
"I am the sea."
"I know." The brown of his skin against the pale greenish colour of the squid-face made him smile. "You are what I have always loved."
"My ship is not your ship."
Nemo looked behind him at his Nautilus. She was nestled in the sand and rock at the bottom of the cavern, filled with seawater, his organ still gleaming dully in the salon, one of his books washed from the table through the broken salon window. "My ship has gone to sleep. I will sail with you."
He walked with the ocean floor with the octopus arm around him, and the distance did not hurt him, although his fingers still ached with arthritis. At last they came to a ship. Unlike his Nautilus, it was an old ship, with full sails, tall masts, rigging-- but it was not made of wood, he realised, with another smile. Every part of it was alive with the sea, and writhed and moved and breathed. The rigging, when he touched it, squirmed beneath his hands.
And the men on the ship were growing with the sea. One was a shark-face on a man-body, and he caught his breath. The smooth grey skin, the long eyes--how beautiful. The sea had always created the most beautiful things. Another man was less creature than man, but Nemo stopped to touch the starfish growing out his cheek.
"Ah," he murmured.
"Come, come, come along," the squid-face said to him, as the octopus arm drew him along. "You will be like them. You will become part of us."
Nemo closed his eyes as the squid's arms moved around his face, closer than the tide. "Here I am."
"Welcome, Prince," it whispered.
(When I saw the film? I was going eeeeeee, Norrington! ^____^. N., on the other hand, was going eeeeeeeeeeeeee SEXY SEXY SQUID-FACED MAN, EEEEEEEEEEE. I blame that.)
Lolligo
What had he expected from death?
His ship sank quietly and slowly into the water, the electric lights fading inside the cave. His eyes were dim, but the clouds that had been creeping in eyes for years had not yet taken his sight. He could see through the window of the salon the light and water shadows disappearing from the ceiling of the cave.
He had killed many men, and now he himself was dying. He had sent the children of the island away before the end, that he might be alone, and now--and now he was going back to the sea. It was the one thing he loved that had never been taken from him.
He belonged to the sea.
"I am the sea," it whispered.
Nemo lifted his head, although it was difficult and his neck ached, and looked directly as the window of the salon.
Outside, pressed against the glass, the squid looked directly back. The arms lengthened and undulated, and as he watched, he seemed to see a face; the eyes were almost human, the stretched skin covered a nose. The eyes--the eyes smiled at him, and again he heard it whispering,--
"I am the sea."
"I am No One." He could not move (he was too sick and old for that), but he spoke.
"Come out to me. Come out to me. I am the sea. You are mine. Come, come, come out." The voice and the arms moved like the sea, in and out, trembling and swirling with the currents, blue and green and black as the ocean at its deepest and palest. Nemo smiled back.
"I cannot."
"Come, come, come out," it whispered against his window.
"I am unable."
"I am the sea. You belong to the sea. You love the sea. You have always loved the sea. You say you love gods, you say you loved the woman, but you do not know. You have never known what you loved or what you trust except the sea. I am the sea. Come, come, come out," the squid whispered.
"I loved my gods. I loved the woman," Nemo said. He had loved the woman. He had loved her more than any other thing in the world except the children. But they were dead (as he would be soon).
"You love the sea."
"Yes, I love the sea."
"You do not know what will happen when you die. The only thing that is always the same is the sea. The sea is always safe, and loves you back. The sea feeds you and clothes you and houses you. The sea loves you. Come out to me."
"I cannot stand."
"Love the sea. Give your soul to the sea. Would you not rather trust the sea with your soul than the gods you do not know? You know the sea."
"Does the sea wish for my soul? She has given me everything. I will give her what she wants."
"The sea would like your soul. Come out. Give me your soul."
He lifted his tired arms and legs and pulled himself off the divan, coming to the window, touching his stiff arthritic fingers to the glass so that they met with the long arms of the squid. The squid's eyes still smiled, and the place that might have been a nose breathed. Nemo felt the weariness leaving him. He was not yet dead. He would not see the woman, and he would not see the beautiful children (laughing, playing, swimming, long brown arms and exquisite faces). Instead the sea was asking for him.
Slowly the glass began to splinter, shot through with cracks like the stone when the water runs inside and freezes. The fishnet of broken glass spread out, out, until the entire window was cloudy with them, like his eyes when he looked out.
Nemo pressed it, and the glass fell out. The sea came in.
"Here I am," he said.
"I am the sea," the squid whispered, its arms reaching out like the tide to draw him to it. He held out his hands and let the arms slide over his bare skin.
"I have always loved you," he said.
"Welcome, Prince."
The squid pulled him closer until he felt the arms and also another pair of arms, wrapt around him, and he understood that it was shaped partly like a squid and partly like a man, and it was the sea. One of the arms ended in a long arm covered with small suckers, his favourite octopus; the other was the claw of a king crab, sharp and strong. The squid became the face of the man-body, and a mouth opened in it, a mouth that smiled. Again it said,--
"Welcome, Prince."
Nemo lifted one of his hands to the squid-face, touching it with a slow wonder, part childlike and part scientist, part examiner, part student, part Prince. "You are not the woman."
"No."
"I believe I had always thought so. I loved the woman."
"I am the sea."
"I know." The brown of his skin against the pale greenish colour of the squid-face made him smile. "You are what I have always loved."
"My ship is not your ship."
Nemo looked behind him at his Nautilus. She was nestled in the sand and rock at the bottom of the cavern, filled with seawater, his organ still gleaming dully in the salon, one of his books washed from the table through the broken salon window. "My ship has gone to sleep. I will sail with you."
He walked with the ocean floor with the octopus arm around him, and the distance did not hurt him, although his fingers still ached with arthritis. At last they came to a ship. Unlike his Nautilus, it was an old ship, with full sails, tall masts, rigging-- but it was not made of wood, he realised, with another smile. Every part of it was alive with the sea, and writhed and moved and breathed. The rigging, when he touched it, squirmed beneath his hands.
And the men on the ship were growing with the sea. One was a shark-face on a man-body, and he caught his breath. The smooth grey skin, the long eyes--how beautiful. The sea had always created the most beautiful things. Another man was less creature than man, but Nemo stopped to touch the starfish growing out his cheek.
"Ah," he murmured.
"Come, come, come along," the squid-face said to him, as the octopus arm drew him along. "You will be like them. You will become part of us."
Nemo closed his eyes as the squid's arms moved around his face, closer than the tide. "Here I am."
"Welcome, Prince," it whispered.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-16 04:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-16 04:09 am (UTC)But--it's just so logical! Bwee. ^__________^ Thank you so much. Is going to be my new OTP. Must make icon.
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Date: 2006-07-16 04:17 am (UTC)N. likes bizarre oceany things. They're his loves.
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Date: 2006-07-16 08:21 am (UTC)(And when I saw the movie, Davy Jones' organ playing made me grin for the entire night.)
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Date: 2006-07-16 08:04 pm (UTC)(Me tooooooo. He was playing with his tentacles. N. was fanboying.)
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Date: 2006-07-16 11:41 am (UTC)"I AM THE SEA." It is the most badass line in the history of EVER and you used it so well, oh love.
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Date: 2006-07-16 08:05 pm (UTC)I knowwwwwwwwwwww. So badass, and so N.-seduckting.
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Date: 2006-07-16 02:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-16 08:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-16 03:57 pm (UTC)Davy Jones was the best thing about that movie (to me, at least) and I'm suddenly all sorts of obsessed with him -- but I was sad that there weren't that many fics about him -- and then you write one! ^_____^
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Date: 2006-07-16 04:31 pm (UTC)He totally was. The pipe and the squuuuuuiiiiiiiiiiiid and the eyes and the--omg. He just won me over completely in about the first three seconds. You're welcome, eeeeeeeee. ^____^