A play on chance

Disclaimer: Jack and the rest of the POTC crew aren't mine *though if Jack wouldn't mind, I could make him a happy man for one night ^_^* The two oc's are mine of course.


PLEASE REVIEW!! And, I would love reviews on my X-men story, Fighting my demons. At least comment on my poem, I want to see if I can get it published. *or should for that matter.*

AND AWAY WE GO!


She was sitting there, minding her own business. Most people left her alone. She didn’t care, the less she talked to the better. If she addressed someone, it was usually to sell something. She sighed. It was soon to be closing time. Darkness was falling, and a light rain had started. Looking back, she noticed the tender waving her away. He would pay her keeper. She sighed, and rushed off. It was no good to stay around here unless she wanted trouble.
However, trouble was what she found.
Her name was Calypso Marie. She was dark skinned, with black hair, and deep brown eyes, she appeared to be about 18. She was also abandoned. As far as she knew, her parents were dead. She was found on the door step of her keeper, with naught but a name. There had been a picture drawn, badly, after her name. They assumed it represented her last name, but knew not what the picture was. As her slender form glided between people she attempted to avoid touching them.
Calypso had an odd ability. If she was touching someone’s skin, she could see bits of their past. It was mostly foggy, but the stronger the feelings at the time, the sharper the image. If she managed to just brush by someone instead of solidly touching them, she was usually okay. She normally wore dark cotton gloves to keep from touching skin. She tried to keep this from others, and had managed quite well for someone her age.
“Oof!” She gasped as a drunk barreled into her. She fell onto her back.
“Watch it darlin’ or you’ll be findin my boot along side yer head.” He growled. He raised his hand to hit her, kicking her in the stomach first.
“Watch it yourself boyo.” She said between clenched teeth. She closed her eyes ready for him to strike her. It never came.
“Around here, we don’t hit ladies. Or had you forgotten that mate?” A voice said.
“Back off, scumbag.” The first man growled.
“I’ll be happy to back off and go to me ship, as soon as me mate comes out and helps the young lady. Apologize.” The new voice said.
“Never.” The attacker said. There was a click.
“Don’t. Go back to your ship. I’ll take care of this. No need for you to get arrested and hung.” A new voice said.
Calypso opened her eyes. She saw feet. She rolled to her side to stand. She saw a hand, but ignored it, having realized with her contact with the ground, she wasn’t wearing her gloves. No use touching it. She couldn’t, she didn’t know this person or their past. It was a clean, calloused hand. She couldn’t see his face in the dark, nor that of his friend. They both had a strong aura about them that spoke volumes of the kind of people they were.
“I won’t hurt you love.” He said. She smiled and shook her head, standing.
“Don’t think I’m tryin to insult you sir.” She said.
“No, your not. I can understand.” He said, and then she was barreled into from behind.
She was thrown forward, to the side of her rescuer. He moved and caught her arms. She felt relieved for a moment, feeling something flowing through her. She didn’t know what it was, but it was familiar. Then the images came. Feelings, violence, sound.
“Ahh!” She yelped in pain, images and sounds clouded her vision. She collapsed.
When next she began to open her eyes, she saw familiar surroundings. She was back in the hole she called home. She heard her second rescuer arguing with her keeper, mister Barns. Her head pounded with the dream she had. It was of a withered man, half rotten skeleton. He was from the images she saw. But her dream showed him rising from the still form, after he had been shot dead, for sure. He grinned. In the background she heard chanting. She felt heavy magic. She approached the voices on swift and silent feet, pulling her gloves on. She did not need a repeat performance of that. She watched the brown haired young man converse with her keeper. She walked a little further into the room, and saw through the window, the man from her dreams. She let out a scream. The young man turned, his hair flying loose from its tie. The man walked away, glancing back once or twice.
“Calypso, keep your tongue or you’ll scare customers.” Barns said.
“Yes sir. Hello Mister Turner.” She said.