abidinglaw | [voice] it had been strange, even in a dream

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[voice] it had been strange, even in a dream

[While over the past few days the draft has been threatening the lives of cast-mates and strangers and acquaintances alike Admiral Norrington has been fighting a battle of his own. He chose the evening of the fourth to investigate the purpose of that odd little bump on his wall. Flick.

At once he murmured a quick curse to himself and spun around. All alone in his apartment he stepped back and drew his sword. There was no-one at the door, of course, no army of pranksters could have simultaneously lit up each and every one of the candles on all the tables and counters in the room. The light was coming from above. He narrowed his eyes at the brilliant bulb and tentatively flicked the light-switch back with the tip of his blade. Darkness. Light. Darkness. Light.

It was quite enough excitement for one evening.

On the morning of the fifth he tried all of the lights in his apartment, and then a few on the landing outside. Buoyed by his success, he then investigated the electrical devices in his residence and the kitchen beyond - strange boxes with nobs and things which he had ignored up until now. Unlike the light these made horrendous droning noises, or else they glowed in unearthly shades of red and gave off uncanny amounts of heat. He aborted his efforts for fear of them.

Today he sits at a table in the kitchen and opens his journal.]

Might I request that someone explain by what force the light above my head is being generated? And, since I hardly believe that mine are the only quarters to be granted them, what on earth is the function of all of these peculiar boxes?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[In fact he had been developing his own view on the idea of change for some time. The first change was the hardest and he'd fought it tooth and nail; the idea that honor existed outside of the trappings of the royal navy. That grand concepts such as 'right' and 'good' were not always defined by the law, or even enabled by it. Coming to terms with that change had cost him his life. Now the changes were coming thick and fast.

So the interior is changing, but the exterior? Not just yet. Flatly, sarcastically, he replies.]

Flipping this switch will save my life.

Edited 2011-06-07 20:52 (UTC)

No, mate: adapting. Adapting will save your life.

[And Jack is not exactly aware of these changes and is just going to go with the whole "alliance" thing for as long as he needs to.]

[Just wait 'til he starts walking around in jeans and a t-shirt, Jack. Then you'll see.]

And you suggest that I begin by adapting to this bulb. I see. Very well, Jack. I shall practice at flipping switches until I have quite mastered the skill.

[Is he joking? No-one knows.]

[That will be awesome.]

It's a start; I expect you to flip it twenty times per day. Bit of practice, that.

[Steve icons will be made. World will collapse.]

Before I absorb myself utterly in that task, however, I would request that you instruct me on signing up for the next draft. I will not be caught outside of the fight the next time.

[:D]

Oh, there's no sign-up, Admiral; nothing you could put pen to. Nah, they choose us through some unknown criteria and send us off. Fighters, medics, noncombatants, children---no one is spared.

Do you know of any means that I might employ to make myself a more likely candidate? There is little honour in sitting idly by while other men and women [And, he doesn't say, children] fight on my behalf. Perhaps if I were on the battlefield I might take the place of one more deserving of the peace.

[And maybe, if Jack has a heart, this consideration will persuade him to reveal whatever secret got him sent into the fight this time around.]

Edited 2011-06-08 22:41 (UTC)

Their criteria is that there is no criteria at all, seemingly. But I'll tell you this, Admiral: we got a sound thrashing out there in the jungle. Your best gamble would be to train hard and be ready, for no man knows when his name will be called up by the Malnosso to fight their war.

[Sound advice. It would be foolhardy to strive to reach the battlefield only to be bested once he got there. Jack is one of the best swordsmen he knows. If they could go so far as to thrash him... After some seconds' consideration the admiral draws an audible breath.]

Very well, but my options are limited. Given the circumstances I suppose that yours would be an adequate stone on which to whet my blade. Presuming, of course, that you were game for a second thrashing.

Edited 2011-06-08 23:08 (UTC)

Are you suggesting, James, that you'd like to give it another go?

[And if pressed with feet held to the fire, Jack would have to admit that the Admiral is the better man with a sword, at least under the conditions of a fair fight. A want of adaptation, though, could be his undoing.]

I'm still a bit done in from the field, but did you have a where and when in mind?

What I am suggesting, Sparrow, is that we train together -- away from your snares and without malice.

[Had had not been clear on that point?]

And I would not condone that we begin until you were fit to do so.

...The next full moon, then. [It was only a week away.] We'll have at it.

[But Jack is a wily impulsive fighter and a cheating scoundrel besides. What chance is there that he would sit patiently and take instruction from the Admiral on form and posture? And similarly how could Norrington stoop to tainting his practiced grace with the pirate's shameful floundering? Better that they fight as they have always done.]

Upon the ground we shall lay a length of silk. We shall begin each twenty paces from the other and set the prize in the middle. At a pre-determined signal we shall both seek to grasp and hold it. By any means. The victor will be the man who holds the silk the longer.

Have you any objections?

None at all. I like this game, Mister Norrington, I like it well. And when I've won the silk I might give it as a favor to my lady, eh?

[Right. And what whore have you cozened into your bed this week?]

The more reason to keep it from you.

Very well, Admiral: I shall engage you in your game of wit and skill, and you will always remember it as the game in which you almost kept Captain Jack Sparrow from...grabbing a bit of silk.

We'll use paisley, I think.

A fine plan. A fine plan indeed. With luck and a little effort you might pass yourself off as a Raja yet.

Edited 2011-06-11 02:02 (UTC)

And make my people proud, if they'd have me? Brilliant. Perhaps then they'll let me ride an elephant about.

A clumsy, lumbering, stumbling oafish thing -- riding on top of an elephant?

I can scarcely imagine it.

Edited 2011-06-11 02:27 (UTC)

Aye! Upon a great war-beast! Like Hannibal, crossing the Alps!

[Or Archie and Jack aboard a rusted-out tractor.]

On second thought, perhaps an elephant it would suite you after all.

Only if my mother's blood flows faster than my father's, I suppose.

I'm afraid you lost me somewhere between the elephant and your parents.

Edited 2011-06-13 18:27 (UTC)

A dangerous place to be, if you know Teague...

Til our bit of spar, then, eh?

Until your next sound thrashing.

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