Wicked Man's Rest

[Lothy]

RP Info:
Private or Open?: Private.
Fast, Casual or Slow?: Casual.
Rating: PG-13.
Involved: Lothy, PD & Aramel.
Characters: Georgina Cavendish, Cutler Beckett & Keyara Pierce.
Summary: Starts in Port Royal but is mainly set aboard the Endeavour.

The song sent a shiver down Georgina's spine, the tune eerie, the voices filling her with a sense of foreboding. It was a warning to all, no less the Company. Still, her expression remained stoic, as did her posture from where she stood in the courtyard, the skirts of her dress whipping slightly in the wind. Thankfully her hat stayed in place, the dark blue velour matching that of her gown, sophisticated and formal, almost official in nature whilst holding an important grace. The over skirts were fitted, much like a coat in looks and practicality, the waistcoat underneath it a glorious cream with damask patterns. Underneath that and her corset her shift was frilled with lace, spilling out from her neckline beneath a white neck tie.

The sun beat down mercilessly and the overcoat did nothing to relieve her from the heat and neither did the large, red wig (a similar colour to her natural hair but curlier with slightly more volume), but she was not one for complaining. Instead she simply kept to the shadows when she could or took it in her stride, fan in hand fluttering slowly and gracefully. Everything about her was graceful, in fact. It was something she was incapable of losing, having had such teachings hammered into her since birth. Although her family had washed their hands of her, she was still first and foremost a noble woman and a well learned one at that, despite what may have happened to her since.

It was such things that she had to stop herself from looking back on now, the sight of the pirates and anyone associated with them walking to their deaths in their hundreds bringing forth images of her own past desperations. She looked away from the scene, her eyes the only part of her revealing her discomfort, but soon they glazed over to a default, emotionless state, one she had become accustomed to since coming under the employ of Lord Cutler Beckett.

She looked across at him briefly, wondering what he was thinking in that moment. Did the man even have a conscience? Was it something that was hidden deep down or perhaps he was truly heartless? Something within her doubted anyone could be so cold, he was simply a very guarded person. None the less the was grateful to him. He had been kind enough to allow her to work for him after all. Had given her rooms along with her wages. She was quite frankly indebted to the man and it was because of this that she pushed her own conscience to the side and got on with whatever tasks were at hand. Whatever happened, she was not going to let herself fall back into the gutters and if this was the business that kept her out of them then so be it. After all, everyone did what they could to survive.

[PD]

“Finally.”

The words breathed out of his mouth, slow and drawn, like poison - seemingly showing what a hardhearted, ruthless man he had become. Surely only a monster could utter such things as a group of ragged and filthy citizens, men, women and children alike, filed off to their wretched deaths. Their haunting melody echoed off the walls of Fort Charles, causing everyone’s hair to stand on end. An unutterable eerie sensation swept through the place, covering everything. He attempted to tune it out, a task which wasn't as hard as it may seem as his mind was preoccupied with other worries.

Cutler didn't face them, however, and he did not watch as their bodies were carted away like nothing more than slaughtered animals. For some reason, he could not force himself to face them and to look at the people he was killing so easily. He had suspended most of their rights and they were essentially helpless to defend themselves. Dying without a cause, dying just because he felt like killing them. Was that what he had become, a tyrannical killer? The nagging thought poked at his brain, not allowing him to kill it off as well.

At the moment, however, he was preoccupied. His eyes were resting on Keyara who sat not too far away from him. He knew what she had done… as of this morning he knew. And it devoured him alive, gnawing at the heart he was sure he had only a few days before.

He blinked and drug his eyes from her at last and to the lieutenant who was still standing there, apparently awaiting some sort of orders. “Prepare my ship. I think it’s time we pay Mr. Jones a visit, hm?” He raised a brow to the lieutenant who seems somewhat uneasy. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the man and turned his mind to work, losing himself in it. This was his most grand mission, the one which would most assuredly etch his name into the history of the world forever. And that was important to him, broken heart or not. In fact, perhaps it would be easier if his heart was torn out and lost forever. Then he would have absolutely nothing standing in his way of victory… and he would have victory.

[Aramel]

Keyara’s contempt for Georgina was blatant.

There were many reasons she could not stand her. For one, the redheaded woman, more prim and proper than Keyara, did not know what it was like to grow up in poverty and fight her way from the frail, infested shacks to the top of the upper class. Keyara was far more rough around the edges and favored a good fight; a verbal, psychological battle as opposed to something physical. While looking delicate and made of porcelain, Keyara would not be broken.

Secondly, she refused to be so easily replaced. When Georgina came along, it was evident that the ship was not big enough for two women of such power. Prior to her arrival, Keyara had been the Lady of the Ship, as the men referred to her, but now Lady had become Ladies, and sharing wasn’t one of Keyara’s strong suits.

Of course, her respect amongst the Company had decreased significantly, but it was due to what Keyara liked to call “good business” (after Lord Beckett’s favorite phrase). She had only slept with Gabriel as a means of getting him to trust her. And once he had killed Varianna, Keyara had killed him. The feel of the dagger’s blade sinking into Gabriel’s back could not be more pleasing to her and the sight of his blood… she could still taste it, remembering the way it spurted from his body onto her hands and face. It was disgusting and sinful and addicting all at once.

That being said, watching these dirty criminals hang by their necks did not bother her in the least. She watched with obvious amusement as the boy who initiated the song finally met his death, the silver piece of eight he carried falling to the ground. Four men removed the strangled corpses from the gallows and another group of pirates and conspirators were sent to meet their fates. Still they sang, and Keyara went on smiling and fanning herself as though she were at a Shakespearian play.

[Lothy]

Georgina signed the final document with a flourish, dropping the pen back into it's inkwell and rising from the stool she had been delicately perched on, waving a servant over to collect the papers up. She took a moment to look back across to the bodies being carted away, no ceremony accorded to them, feet bare and necks tangled. Her face remained blank but inside she felt a pang of guilt. They had been slaughtered needlessly, a massacre hidden under official titles and laws.

She turned from the scene and placed her hands in front of her, nodding for the younger servant to follow her as the officials made their own exits, readying themselves for the newly scheduled departure of the Endeavour. Some of them she knew previously from the years spent in London under the Company's employ, some knew her Uncle, the only member of her family who had shown her a kindness after the incident that had forced her from her home.

It always came down to that night, for Georgina; the night her hated step-father had set upon her and turned her own blood against her. There was only before and after. Before; when she felt somewhat safe, supported and naïve, unknowing of the world beyond her glorious stately home, and after; a time of fear and desperation, not knowing where to turn, walking the streets of London hoping and praying that someone, somewhere would give her the break she needed.

It was from this time that her understanding of what these condemned must be feeling came from, having herself been forced to make hard decisions. Things could have been very different for her, had she not been rescued from the brothel she had been heartlessly tricked into. She had made an escape before any damage had been done, luckily, finding herself instead a job as a scullery maid within a generous family. It was through this profession that she rose, finding herself Governess to a very wealthy politician's family within six years. It was then that her uncle had found her, using his influence to secure her a place within the East India Trading Company, somewhere she again began to rise.

At first she had chosen to stay behind when Lord Beckett took his fight to the Caribbean, nervous about leaving England, having only ever travelled as far as France, where she had spent part of her adolescence growing up, learning the ways of the court. Eventually, however, she had been persuaded, arriving a few weeks after the rest of the party and finding herself growing accustomed to the beautiful town easily. It was then that she had come to be introduced to Miss Keyara Pierce, having not met her previously and was surprised to find her already having earned the trust of Lord Beckett. Keyara had not receive her well, the hostilities obvious but unimportant to Georgina who once again slipped back into her respected role within the Company. She mainly ignored the woman and continued to do so now.

At that thought she spared the blond in question a glance, hearing a few whispers from the officers near by. She knew of course what had occurred during the quest for the Dead Man's Chest, between the blonde and a promising young officer named Gabriel Phillips. To her the move seemed rash and it lowered her opinions of Keyara further. The actions had also appeared to have left Lord Beckett in a less than desirable mood. To Georgina it was all quite childish and distasteful. She shook her head and moved out of the alcove, striding graceful yet holding an air of importance, a lady on a mission. The servant followed close behind her as she made for her rooms, packing a trunk quickly before having it sent down to the docks.

She followed closely after, having made sure her affairs were set in order and stepped out of the carriage onto the dock, surveying the beautiful ship before her with a smile. The Endeavour was nothing less than a piece of art and a dangerous one at that, a ship to be proud to step foot onto, let alone own, like Lord Beckett did. She made her way onto the ship, her own cabin upon it something to die for. After having her servant deposit her trunk in the adjoining sleeping quarter she made her way back above deck, breathing in the salty air and letting the sun warm her face, but being sure to keep out of the way of the busy sailors that readied the ship. After finding herself a place to linger she began to relax and prepare herself to once again come face to face with the devil of the sea himself; Davy Jones.