ataraxionlogs | (no subject)

CHARACTERS: Severus Snape and OPEN.
LOCATION: The Oxygen Garden
WARNINGS: None as yet.
SUMMARY: Someone is just indulging his botanical interests! Nothing to see here!
NOTES: Action or Prose is fine.

As if slime, disorientation and nausea weren't bad enough, flashbacks and nightmares definitely made it far worse. His subconscious had apparently formed a connection between the horror of his almost-death and these jumps; a development that was definitely going to be nipped in the bud if at all possible, which is why Severus Snape, former Hogwarts Potions master was currently in the Oxygen Garden, looking over the varieties of plants and insects. He could have simply gone to the Medbay and asked for sleeping pills, but Snape was never a person to condescend to use muggle medicine when he could be painstakingly brewing a complicated magical potion, even under these less than optimal conditions.

Prior to this excursion, he had procured or conjured bags, envelopes and boxes of various sizes in which to place his ingredients (provided of course, that he found them), stowing them in the pockets of his jumpsuit (and also places where there weren't pockets), giving him a somewhat lumpy appearance. He missed his concealing voluminous robes, not for the first or last time. This was the first time he'd sought the Oxygen Garden out and he had to admit he was a little bit daunted by the sheer size of the place, wondering if it would prove necessary to make use of Summoning Charms. (Accio wormwood!). An emergency option, perhaps, as he would prefer to continue to conceal his magical abilities (oneupmanship of pushy pirates notwithstanding). For the time being, he was just hunting for what he needed.

He may be in there for a while.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bollocks. Another plan proven ineffective. And of course Sparrow would be entirely obtuse to any subtly implied insults. So that was an utter waste of breath, as usual. It was almost not even worth the energy to be disgusted at that point. But Snape will try, because he's considerate like that. Not to mention characteristic.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised, Sparrow, that any ship of yours would be built out of flotsam and jetsam. That would be about your level of expertise," he drawled icily, accompanied by a look fairly dripping with unbridled disparagement. In answer to that ludicrous question, Snape pulled a plant from the soil and tossed it in the general direction of Jack's bovine-like expression.

"Be certain to let me know how that works out for you." And then he had the sinking feeling that he would definitely regret making that offer.

Jack stares at the plant, eyebrows furrowed together, lips pressed together. Just... staring. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Ding!

"...This ain't wood, mate."

He makes a face.

"It... is a plant." Beat. "I can not make a ship out of leaves."

"How astute of you to pick up on that, Sparrow. Clearly not everything people say about you is true. I suppose then, you won't be needing that will you." He held out his hand for the plant: waste not, want not after all. "Unless you feel inclined to attempt the manufacture of absinthe."

Snape might encourage this actually. Perhaps Sparrow will poison himself.

Nope, sorry, Jack doesn't even know what absinthe is. So, all you get is another odd and curious look for you troubles.

But what Jack does understand is that Snape gave him something and now he wants it back. And well, that just about goes against everything Jack stands for. "No!" He moves the plant away from Snape's outstretched hand.

What is he going to do with it? He has no idea. But well, Snape wants it back, so Jack wants it more. Simple as that.

Just about two months ago, Severus Snape had been risking his life on a daily basis: a covert cog in the wheel of an escalating, horrific conflict which had begun for him as the fast-track to ambition, but was quickly eclipsed and degenerated by corrupt ideology and abuse of power, only to abruptly reverse and veer into redemption as a result of a tragedy of his own making. A tragedy that would lead him to devote the remainder of his existence to remorse and reparation that he could never, ever achieve; doggedly treading a path that would eventually culminate in his own inevitable destruction; a martyr in the eternal struggle of good against evil.

And now, here he was, playing tug o' war with a ludicrous excuse for a pirate over a plant. A rather common plant at that.

Pressing his lips together and throwing up his hand in what appeared to be a gesture of defeat, Snape relinquished the 'trophy' to Jack and spinning on his heel, swept from the room (as well as one could sweep without the effect of voluminous robes). He could keep his wormy wood, while Severus went to weep for his lost dignity.

Over the past year, Jack had died, been returned to life, fought in a pirate war against the East India Trading Company, backstabbed people several times, got backstabbed several more times, fought against Davy Jones himself and almost became the immortal Captain of the Flying Dutchman, and defeated Lord Cutler Beckett and somehow got through all of that without dying again.

And now, he's in the Oxygen Gardens, wishing he was anyplace but in space, a plant in his hand, and grin on his face.

"Leavin' so soon, mate?"