|It's Spelled Jill
Author: Saru Wolfe PM
A MarySue and a reluctant, sarcastic selfinsert are put into the same story. What happens when they go after the same man? Chaos... and hilarity. Can they ever be friends? I think not. And I'm the Author.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor/Adventure - James N. - Chapters: 7 - Words: 9,152 - Reviews: 39 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 17 - Updated: 06-19-08 - Published: 06-16-07 - id: 3597211
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Jill is me. Cerilia is mine. Sarcasm is amazing.
Author's Note: I know, it took forever! I post so erratically. I apologize to everyone.
Cerilea and I dashed across the beach, feet pounding in time across the sand. It irked me that we were going the same speed. As I was a good head taller than her, my legs were much longer, besides which I was running more quickly than I had ever thought I could. However, she was matching me stride for stride, and I even got the feeling that she was letting me keep up with her. It was simply not fair.
We rounded a curve and came face-to-face with a cluster of boulders, about five feet high at its highest point. I leapt on top of it. I was several feet closer to the other end of the boulders before I realized that Cerilea had stopped. I turned; she was just standing on the sand, sword drawn, waiting for Jones' crew to catch up with us. "What are you doing?" I shouted.
"We have something to guard our backs now. We can fight, and I will!"
"You're a moron! Do you know that?"
She just gave me a Look. I huffed, but there was nothing to do. I jumped down beside her and took out my knife. I knew how to hold it; I had seen enough action shows. A mob came around the bend and charged us. It was time to implement my original plan; stay behind Cerilea. Just as they reached us, I slid between her and the mass of boulders. Call it defending the sides.
Cerilea was an amazing fighter (as if there were any question as to that). Her sword spun too quickly for me to follow it, flashing through the air and clanging against other weapons. Anyone having actually learned any method of fighting knows that fighting multiple opponents is challenging at best. Cerilea, however, made it look all too easy. No one could shift positions without her notice. She was faster than all of them put together. Even defended from two sides as I was, I sometimes had difficulty avoiding injury.
I heard a bellow from my right. One of our enemies was rushing at me, sword raised above his head. That was too easy. I pivoted, lifted my knee, and slammed my heel into his abdomen. Foot and torso connected with a solid, satisfying thud. This has a tendency to stop people. He staggered backwards, looking slightly ill.
I was still smirking when Cerilea's sword came down two inched from my face. I jumped backwards. "Hey!" I glared until I realized that there had been a fish person right behind me, and Cerilea had just saved my life.
"You can thank me later!" she said as she returned to her battle. I scowled.
As I lashed out at the occasional adversary that got too close, it dawned on me that we had been fighting for a while. If everyone else got back to the longboat before we did, then they might leave without us. That was a terrifying thought. "Cerilea, we need to get back to the longboat!"
"I was just thinking that," she said through clenched teeth as she parried two or three attacks at once.
I noticed a couple of them climbing up the boulders. They were starting to surround us! One of them stood right above us. With a war cry, he lifted his foot to stomp on whatever he could reach. I hooked my knife behind his other ankle and jerked, hard. He came crashing down, war cry transformed into a pained yelp midway through. "We have to go!" I saw an opening in Jones' men to the left and shoved Cerilea through. "Run!"
"Split up!" she called out as she took off in a different direction. "I'll meet you back there!"
"I don't know where the longboat is!" I screamed, but it was no use. Cerilea was already engaged in defending herself as she ran. I kept to the beach. It was the only sure way I had of finding the stupid boat again. Unfortunately, I was pursued by two of Jones' crewmen. One of them was limping, lucky me.
By the time I arrived, gasping for breath, at the longboat, all was chaos. The infamous wheel of fortune had arrived already. Cerilea fought on one side of the longboat; everyone else defended the other side. I joined the fray, trying to get to the boat. Norrington and Will each rummaged around in the boat. I eventually made my way over to Cerilea; I reached her at the same time Norrington did. I – it was my lucky day, apparently – ended up wedged between them. Several consecutive thuds from behind told me that Will was unconscious.
It was getting bad. The enemy's numbers never seemed to thin. Even I, stuck in the middle as I was, barely had time to shove one guy away before blocking the next attack. Everyone was pushed to the limit – except Cerilea, of whose limits we shall never truly know.
"I have an idea," I thought to myself, since everyone else would have killed me for it. "Let's throw Cerilea into their midst. She'll slaughter the lot of them in less than five minutes. Certainly there will be an unbearable amount of angsty guilt, unsolicited romance, and drama afterwards, but at least by then I'll have the option of running away." However, I knew I'd be outvoted, so I kept my mouth shut.
"We're not getting out of this!" Elizabeth cried desperately.
"Not with the chest," Norrington realized. There was a collective moment of horrified silence, and then Norrington dived behind all our backs and grabbed the chest. "Get in the boat!" he shouted as he stepped back towards the jungle.
"No!" Cerilea screamed. She dashed up to him. "You can't!"
"I have to," he said simply. "Go." Cerilea, delicate figure wracked with sobs, reached up and gently touched his cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were filled with determination. He was no longer the drunk we had picked up in Tortuga. He was a soldier again. "I'm sorry."
"Go!" He ran. Cerilea stood there, weeping miserably.
"I say we respect his final wish!" Jack shouted over the commotion.
I dragged the moron (meaning Cerilea, not Jack) into the longboat by the arm. "Come on!"
"Stop! Let me go! I have to help him!" she yelled.
"Just get in the boat!" I didn't have time to deal with her. I was too busy watching Norrington lead everyone away from us. I knew he would be all right. I had seen the movies. Even so, as we rowed away, I had to bury my face in my arm to hide the inexplicable tears that blurred my view of Norrington's retreating back.
I know, I'm horrible. I'll update as soon as I get the next chapter done, and there will be much humor to make up for this. Please review.