Thanks to: PhantomPenguin, Anne Herbold, i like vader lots, Zaerith-Chan, and all the lovely readers.
disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney. This is written purely for entertainment, and no copyright infringment is intended.
The storm was coming along quite nicely, actually. Not too harsh so as to destroy everything in its path—not that she really could conjure one of those up at any given moment; she had to be angry to at least attempt one of those, and to tell the truth of it, she hadn't been that angry for a decade at least. But the storm was what the area needed, to replenish, refresh the air, not to rend it apart with lightning and thunder, to upset the sea life. So, she settled for merely letting the waves have their say, pushing this way and that, tickling her with their steady movements while she kept everything else under scrupulous control.
Such was the life of the Goddess.
She roamed as the storm continued, working itself up only to eventually blow itself out. Suddenly, she felt the tugging, incessant pull of many lost souls, all concentrated in one spot.
Intrigued, pained, she dove, shifting forms even as she did.
The lone female dolphin surged forward, using her echolocation as she swam to better navigate through the depths. She sent out a series of squeaks, the communication of her kind, heedless of the too-cold water as she swam, deeper and deeper.
There. Just ahead.
She shifted again, this time not even bothering to take a substantial form, but becoming the surrounding water.
A ship had gone down recently, the remains of which now rested before her. It was a grim sight, augmented by the fact that several corpses—the remains of the crew—were caught in the wreckage, the rest allowed to roam to the surrounding area.
She surveyed the wreck out of curiosity; it was a beautiful ship, intricate woodworking everywhere. She floated, examining every detail, transfixed, wondering for the first time what life on this ship would have been like…
Soon, she reached the captain's quarters, miraculously still in tact. The living space was comfortable, of course, with still more of the peculiar woodwork adorning the walls. In the corner was a small cot, tipped over, eerie in its stillness. A desk to her right, navigational instruments strewn on the floor…she turned to her left, and gasped.
There, adorning the full inner wall of the cabin was a magnificent instrument, the likes of which she had never seen before. She wasn't even sure how she knew it was an instrument in the first place, but it called to her and she approached, shifting to a more substantial form.
The mermaid shook her mane of hair back away from her face prettily, shivering at the cold waters surrounding her. Reaching out with her hand, her finger lightly touched one of the keys of the instrument.
Disappointed, she shook her head, making her way back out of the room. With sad eyes, she surveyed the wreckage once more before shifting again, resplendent in the full glory of the Goddess.
She had work to do.
An hour later she resurfaced, glad to be free from the grim work of ferrying the souls to the other side. The least pleasant part of her occupation, she tried to avoid it as much as possible, only completing the task when she couldn't bear the endless, unceasing chorus of voices, calling out to her for peace, for rest. Her job done, though, she was jubilant, and the storm of her making reflected this new happiness, this new peace by slowing down, the rain now falling softly.
Through the water she swam, thinking of nothing, reveling in the pure freedom, the solace of the ocean that reflected that which was within her…her favorite sandbar was ahead, a place she tried to visit often, to think, to reflect, and to guard.
She was puzzled once she reached her destination, however. There, laying face up in the middle of her precious sandbar, was a man.
She shifted quickly, and the small crab scuttled up the beach, intent on investigating this intruder.
His overall appearance was ravaged, and he was barely breathing. But the important thing was the fact that he still clung to life. Resolute that this person would not die here, under her care, she shifted again to a form she was loath to use, yet suited this purpose the best.
Muscles bunched under dark skin as she picked the man up, cradling him securely in her arms as though he weighed no more than a small child. Shaking her dreadlocks out of her face, she stepped resolutely forward into the ocean, calling upon all of her power as she continued to walk forward, not sinking, but supported by the water beneath her bare feet.
The man stirred, and looked up at her for a moment, bright blue eyes barely coming into focus before sinking back into unconsciousness with a moan.
She smiled sadly as she continued to walk forward; somewhere in the depths of her being, she knew those eyes.
"A touch of destiny you have about you, Davy Jones," she said quietly, all the while continuing on her way, making for land.