[OPEN] alas, my children

[andajarofdirt]

Characters: Jack, Jack & you.
Setting: Floor 42
Format: Starting action, but I'll match you either way.
Summary: In which Jack - the monkey - is being a pest, and Jack - the pirate - wants his goddamn hat back. 
Warnings: Jack Sparrow being Jack Sparrow. Also, creepy undead monkey and potential shooting of it.

JACK!

[Captain Jack Sparrow does not usually scream. Or screech. Or lose his cool, composed air of sophisticated pirate lord. In other words, he's usually too busy pretending to be drunk to do much, really. But sometimes a man must take a stand. Sometimes, there's a monkey involved. Sometimes, a hat is in danger.]

Bugger all, you little pest. I'm gonna shoot yer brains out, see if I don't!

[Sometimes, when an undead monkey steals your hat and runs away into a floor made of shifting, moving bars, you think "oh god, why" or "I bet you all this is God's way of getting back at me about the priest thing" and "I really did think it was a brothel, mate, it's a common mistake to make!" When you're Jack Sparrow, though, the reaction is more along the lines of profuse pirate swearing before chasing after it. Into the bars. Which is where your character will find him, balancing around half drunkenly, moving along and trying to reach the monkey with the hat, pistol at hand. He can't shoot the monkey because then his hat will fall off, but he can certainly chase it.

You know, for someone who's supposedly drunk off his ass - how!? - Jack has an uncanny sense of balance, able to run and jump and otherwise chase around after the undead, chittering monkey with relative ease.]

I will make bullets outta your bones, Jack, to make up for the ones you make me waste!

Comments

[andajarofdirt]

[It's not her fault, Jack's skittish that way. It entertains itself chewing on one of the dreads, tiny, beady eyes staring at her as Jack saunters over to Saber, swaying as he goes.]

Captain Jack Sparrow, love.

[Jack grins.]

You remind me of a King I know.

[scorchedchivalry]

[Her eyebrow twitched just slightly at yet another 'love'. She'd given him a name to call her. Why wasn't he using it? Was she going to have to specifically tell him so? Probably. Yet, his comment distracted her from her irritation.]

And what king would that be?

[Saber had been a king in life. A five foot tall king. Short knight is short. She was curious...]

[andajarofdirt]

[Jack grinned at her.]

Her majesty Elizabeth Turner, Pirate King.

[scorchedchivalry]

Pirate King?

[Nope. Not believing this.]

[andajarofdirt]

Elected by public vote by the Pirate Lords of the Fourth Brethren Court, yes.

[He looks terribly amused by her expression.]

Not someone you wanted to tease beyond annoyance, Lizzie. Made an impressive King, she did.

[scorchedchivalry]

A king is not elected but selected through proper tournament, succession or fulfillment of destiny.

[andajarofdirt]

It's in the Code, love.

[You can almost hear the capital in his voice. He shrugs.]

So it's how it's done.

[scorchedchivalry]

Is that your form of tournament? [In that case, she'll accept it.]

[andajarofdirt]

I suppose you could see it that way.

[And then he smiles a little cruelly, remembering the source of the words that echo in his memory.]

You know, I would say it's actually harder to become King under the Code than through a tournament.

[scorchedchivalry]

I never liked succession through tournament. Succession is supposed to be through bloodlines and destiny. Prophecy.

[She sighs.] Though perhaps tournament produces better kings.

[andajarofdirt]

You know what's a good King? One that gets stuff done and doesn't meddle too much in your business.

[scorchedchivalry]

One would think that. [She was such a king.] But that does not work in reality. A king that distances himself from his people while doing what he thinks is best for the people is no king at all. Just someone pretending at playing king...

[andajarofdirt]

But then you have the other kind of King that just makes a mess about everything and sticks their nose where it doesn't belong.

[Jack shrugs.]

Ain't no good, either.

[scorchedchivalry]

Whereas that kind of king may seem unwanted and meddlesome by the less fortunate people, it is best for the country. That kind of king sees that the land properly prospers and expands.

[andajarofdirt]

You know what happens to those kings, love? They cause revolts.

[Jack makes a slicing motion over his neck.]

And then they lose something more important than their crown.

[scorchedchivalry]

I am very much aware of that. [Too aware.] I do not know if there is a middle ground. Both types lead to civil unrest.

[andajarofdirt]

Yep.

[Jack grins.]

But you know the answer to that, love? Rum.

[scorchedchivalry]

[She tilts her head a bit.]

I prefer a cold tankard of ale.

[andajarofdirt]

See, the problem with ale, love, is that it tastes like monkey ass, if you excuse my French, if it's not cold.

[scorchedchivalry]

That is why I do not drink it any other way.

[andajarofdirt]

The problem with that is when you try and drink it in the sea.

[At the word sea, Jack screeches a little, bouncing up and down Jack's shoulder. He rolls his eyes a little.]

[scorchedchivalry]

I do not venture to the sea unless needed to defend my land.

[andajarofdirt]

Pity that, love, pity that.

[He smiles a little feral.]

That's where the real fun is.

[scorchedchivalry]

I do not see how that statement could be true.

[andajarofdirt]

Why not? What about the adventure? The thrill? The rum?