milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Something quiet is lurking on the lakebank.

In and out behind the rocks, dark splashes, soft noises.

[ooc: sorry about that, folks, was kidnapped for business but am returned.]

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Santi certainly didn't expect to end up here. When he learns Jack is dead, his fingers wrap a little tighter.

It's alright. Santi's been dead rather a while. This is a good place to be dead in. Santi will even show him around if he needs it.

"Perdido? No. Mas como... pegado," Jack muses, then shrugs. "No es el armario. Bastante bueno, savvy?"

He doesn't try to pull away from the lad's grip.

He agrees comfortably, because that's a funny expression for it.

He swings their hands happily, looking around at the various things. It's a lot like he imagined a sailing ship would be.

He grins down at the lad and waves his free hand toward the helm and the wheel that's lashed in place.

"¿Desea navegarla?"

Santi gives him a joyously hopeful smile. Of course, although he's not entirely sure where there is to go on this lake.

As he walks, asking softly,

"Ah."

Jack's quiet for a second, then says,

"Cayó -- luchó a beastie, el monstruo terrible, ¿entiende?"

He squeezes Jack's fingers. It's alright, he'll be alright now. He came to Milliways, and in Milliways you can find anything, like a home.

Whether or not it's true, Santi's absolute faith may be comforting.

It is, at that. Jack shrugs a little, grinning down at Santi-- and then is promptly distracted by practicalities as they arrive at the wheel.

"You're but a bit of a lad, son--" He looks around, and spots a small barrel lashed to one side of the deck.

"Ah-HA! Un momento." Jack pulls his hand free of Santi's and gestures for him to wait, then goes to retrieve the barrel, setting it down with a 'thud' and gesturing at it.

"There."

Santi watches this procedure, and grins when he sees what Jack is thinking. The man is obviously and clearly a genius.

Proud as any captain, Santi, clambers up and clutches the wheel, both for balance and because he's standing at the helm of a real pirate's ship.

Mostly though, for balance. He's not a solid sort of creature, the wind might very well blow him off and away.

Jack moves up beside him, placing one hand lightly on Santi's back to steady him.

"Ahora." He takes hold of the wheel, showing the lad how to turn it to catch the wind-- what there is of it. Not enough to bell out the Pearl's sails, not enough to truly move them, but enough to shift her, at least.

Jack lets go, then, and grins down at the boy as he he waves grandly toward the bow of the ship and the reaches of the lake beyond.

"Tráiganos ese horizonte."

He laughs, and the wind carries the sound about, like bird calls, like nothing living. For a second he's a spirit again, glowing, ethereal, powerful.

Then, he looks up at Jack, and smiles and he's a little boy trying to shake and blink his hair out of his eyes without taking his hands off the steering wheel in case it turns suddenly.

He grins back and ruffles Santi's hair.

"Pozo hecho, lad. Well done."

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