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 Posted: Tue Dec 19, 2006 2:43 am
There was something to be said about the silence of the night, the way the water lapped gently upon the man-made structures created for the sole purpose of giving man some attempt at dominion over the deadly ocean. It humbled some, made them realize how tiny and insignificant they truly were in this world. For others, the night sea symbolized power-- theirs and others, and the ever-present struggle for dominance.
For all, it meant something, even if it were something as little as a means of transportation. Water was a part of life.
And tonight, there had been a summons, a calling to the water's edge, to meet with... someone. Would they come? How could they refuse?
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Posted: Tue Dec 19, 2006 11:10 am
How could they refuse, indeed. Even with the suspicion - meeting at the water's edge, and Jam-Admiral Norrington's, excuse me, note - he could not resist the curiosity, and the formal wording of the letter. Even if they were trying to flatter him, to be as polite as possible. Mark the difference in address - "Mr. James Norrington" and "Lord Cutler Beckett", even though his title meant less than the Admiral's out here.
And so Lord Cutler Beckett came. Cautiously, with his little snubnosed revolver tucked firmly in an inner coat pocket and well-within reach, as well as a rarely carried sword, more for decoration than actual use - he preferred the pistol, it was quicker and involved less contat with one's opponent. But he did come, striding to the appointed meeting place as if he had nothing to fear.
And behind him was the Admiral himself, brought along because....well, Beckett had raised an eyebrow and asked him if he didn't want to 'see what this was all about, hmmm?' but in reality he was the shield, the better swordsman and the military man.
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Posted: Thu Dec 21, 2006 2:38 am
Six hooded figures waited at the end of the pier, silent. They weren't wearing robes the way older groups might have, just jackets against the cold, but the line of hooded figures in all black sent the message quite clearly. This was anything but a meaningless meeting-- something would happen tonight, and this something would be a ritual of sorts.
At least, that was the impression they hoped to give off. Beneath the hoods, several of the Emissaries shivered, wondering how and why they got stuck with this job. Most of the others had been in the warm, quiet Petal. They were here, at night, at the sea's edge, waiting for two men who were probably dangerous-- dangerous enough to warrant some of the more powerful Emissaries.
Not that any sort of death was on the menu-- at least, that wasn't in the plans as far as the Emissaries knew-- but it never hurt to be cautious...
The two figures approaching were the expected ones-- finally. The Emissaries had been waiting for well over three hours, waiting for them because someone had insisted they be there early, since they needed to be there well before Lord Beckett and Admiral Norrington arrived to set everything up.
Freezing and quiet, they waited for the pair to reach them.
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Posted: Thu Dec 21, 2006 2:54 am
......Well well well....he was supposed to be intimidated, was he? He wouldn't even give them the satisfaction of reaching closer to his gun, although the barest flick of a glance backwards at the Admiral had the taller man's hand on the hilt of his sword - such an archaeic weapon, that. He wouldn't give them the higher ground. And so his hands remained behind his back, where they were clasped. He looked around with a practiced, idle ease as he drew closer to the group of figures. Because it was so cold, he had specifically chosen a heavier coat, though of make that was just as fine as the more frivilous of his wardrobe, heavy and scarlett red. When the Lord was finally close enough to the group that he could hear and be heard, he drawled. "Dreadful weather, isn't it?"
Show no fear. Not that he felt any, come to that. Just the pricklings of caution without which he would count himself a very stupid man.
And because Lord Beckett was showing no fear, neither did Norrington, although he was somewhat less at ease. Ominous, far too ominous, these dark hooded figures lurking about at the end of a pier. Waiting for them. He said nothing, would say nothing unless prompted. He was here for support and support only.
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