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Description
The noose is itchy, rough... I fear I'm more annoyed than frightened at this point. The wooden planks under my feet are rickety, and some are breaking loose. There are cracks in the wooden beam above my head, and I can hear the buzzing of wasps from within it. I hope I don't get stung.

The overall impression of being publicly executed at the gallows isn't very positive. Just last night, I'd been in a cell that was more unpleasant and cruel than this. Standing here with this rope is practically a luxury. I say as much, and wrangle a laugh from Peter, who is bordering on hysterics. Since when does the world find it proper to hang a boy, a child? Then again, the world has never been very fair to any of us; there's a reason we all ran away.

Peter's shaking beside me, like a leaf in the autumn wind. He's been perched on a barrel, seeing as he's too short to be hung "normally". What a messed up world we live in. Words pore out from my mouth before I can hold them back.

"Peter," I whisper, "it'll be better on the other side, neh? We're heading higher than the Sea of the Sky itself... when you think on it, it's their loss. They're giving us a present, really." I smile softly, trying to find room in my nearly dead heart to comfort the boy. We shouldn't have let him onto the ship.

He's stopped shaking. The pompous prats who gave chase to us earlier are all being thanked. There's an official reading off a long list of parchment, his powdered wig gleaming in the sun. I allow myself to be lost in it's shine for a moment, before bPeter brings me back to myself.

"Jess, aren't you scared at all?" He asks, his tone practically accusatory. "Aren't you afraid to die?" His voice is still so innocent, his youth apparent in his questions. Damn the world; Peter has all the right to live.

"No, Peter," I reply, my hands--shackled behind my back for good measure--clenching into fists. "I'm not scared. I'm too angry for that." The official is still listing our crimes; we're only kids for God's sake, how long can he take?

"Angry?"

"Yes. I wanted to sail with everyone for longer. I wanted to find the White Sea. I wanted to bicker more with James, and learn more from Alex, and get to know Hix... I wanted to always be sailing, always on an adventure. But now these baldies have taken it all away from me. So I'm angry at them. But I'm not scared."

"Baldies?" Peter's curious, even on the execution platform. They're nearing the end of our heinous deeds. It's almost here. Hurry, James.

"Why else do you think they wear those ugly wigs of theirs?" I joke, and Peter laughs, a childish giggle that echos throughout this courtyard of stone. The other crew members, stretching on in what seems to be a never-ending line, all look up at us, their eyes portraying their confusion. James, restrained and off to the side, stares, his jaw gaping.

I glance down along the gallows, taking note of those with the noose around their necks. There's Mira and Alex to my left, Peter and Ted to my right. Hix isn't here. I stare at the executioner, who's going back over us, making sure the nooses are done up properly. He seems to be slightly different from earlier, less rotund, more built... younger, too. I remain in confusion for a minute more, and then he's checking Peter's rope, making some sort of adjustment, when I see the brand on his shoulder; even though I've never seen it before, I immediately know what's happened to the executioner, and why all the adjustments are necessary. Even if I have no idea how he pulled it off. As those familiar hands move toward the rope looped around my neck, I manage to hiss, "Does James know?" At first he doesn't respond, and I fear I've been mistaken in my assumptions; it wouldn't be the first time. But then I receive the slightest shake of the head: James doesn't know what's happening. At my side, Peter begins to tremble again. I want to tell him to stop being afraid, that he'll wake up again soon, but I'm sure that would blow our cover. I can't help but do something reassuring, though, as our "execution" is about to occur. I can't stand to see him looking so scared; he reminds me too much of James. I can't bear to look at James--I'm sure that whatever face he's making isn't one I want to see.I can talk to Peter, though.

"Peter," I say as the executioner checks the last in line, "I know it's scary." he's still shaking, but I can tell he's looking at me. "But there's not much to be afraid of. Whatever happens, we're still going together, okay?"" I smile gently, noticing his limbs staying still. "We've had a good life," I say louder, closing my eyes, determined to NOT look at James, "full of adventure, and love... we've all found a place where we belong." The courtyard seems to be holding its collective breath. I can hear footsteps nearing the lever, the one that will send us all to our deaths, and I suddenly find my eyes open, staring at the mismatched pair out in the crowd. He's struggling trying to break free, and I can see the panic settling in on his face, the fear--

"James," I call out, watching as time seems to still. A hand is resting on the lever. Peter is staring at me. Mira is weeping softly. Ted's stomach growls. Alex smirks. Green and blue eyes find mine.

"It's a pleasure to serve you, Captain."

The lever is pulled. I'm falling, Peter's scream in my ears and James' look of shock imprinted on the backs of my eyes, and praying that Hix knew what he was doing when he was playing with those knots.

Description
The noose is itchy, rough... I fear I'm more annoyed than frightened at this point. The wooden planks under my feet are rickety, and some are breaking loose. There are cracks in the wooden beam above my head, and I can hear the buzzing of wasps from within it. I hope I don't get stung.

The overall impression of being publicly executed at the gallows isn't very positive. Just last night, I'd been in a cell that was more unpleasant and cruel than this. Standing here with this rope is practically a luxury. I say as much, and wrangle a laugh from Peter, who is bordering on hysterics. Since when does the world find it proper to hang a boy, a child? Then again, the world has never been very fair to any of us; there's a reason we all ran away.

Peter's shaking beside me, like a leaf in the autumn wind. He's been perched on a barrel, seeing as he's too short to be hung "normally". What a messed up world we live in. Words pore out from my mouth before I can hold them back.

"Peter," I whisper, "it'll be better on the other side, neh? We're heading higher than the Sea of the Sky itself... when you think on it, it's their loss. They're giving us a present, really." I smile softly, trying to find room in my nearly dead heart to comfort the boy. We shouldn't have let him onto the ship.

He's stopped shaking. The pompous prats who gave chase to us earlier are all being thanked. There's an official reading off a long list of parchment, his powdered wig gleaming in the sun. I allow myself to be lost in it's shine for a moment, before bPeter brings me back to myself.

"Jess, aren't you scared at all?" He asks, his tone practically accusatory. "Aren't you afraid to die?" His voice is still so innocent, his youth apparent in his questions. Damn the world; Peter has all the right to live.

"No, Peter," I reply, my hands--shackled behind my back for good measure--clenching into fists. "I'm not scared. I'm too angry for that." The official is still listing our crimes; we're only kids for God's sake, how long can he take?

"Angry?"

"Yes. I wanted to sail with everyone for longer. I wanted to find the White Sea. I wanted to bicker more with James, and learn more from Alex, and get to know Hix... I wanted to always be sailing, always on an adventure. But now these baldies have taken it all away from me. So I'm angry at them. But I'm not scared."

"Baldies?" Peter's curious, even on the execution platform. They're nearing the end of our heinous deeds. It's almost here. Hurry, James.

"Why else do you think they wear those ugly wigs of theirs?" I joke, and Peter laughs, a childish giggle that echos throughout this courtyard of stone. The other crew members, stretching on in what seems to be a never-ending line, all look up at us, their eyes portraying their confusion. James, restrained and off to the side, stares, his jaw gaping.

I glance down along the gallows, taking note of those with the noose around their necks. There's Mira and Alex to my left, Peter and Ted to my right. Hix isn't here. I stare at the executioner, who's going back over us, making sure the nooses are done up properly. He seems to be slightly different from earlier, less rotund, more built... younger, too. I remain in confusion for a minute more, and then he's checking Peter's rope, making some sort of adjustment, when I see the brand on his shoulder; even though I've never seen it before, I immediately know what's happened to the executioner, and why all the adjustments are necessary. Even if I have no idea how he pulled it off. As those familiar hands move toward the rope looped around my neck, I manage to hiss, "Does James know?" At first he doesn't respond, and I fear I've been mistaken in my assumptions; it wouldn't be the first time. But then I receive the slightest shake of the head: James doesn't know what's happening. At my side, Peter begins to tremble again. I want to tell him to stop being afraid, that he'll wake up again soon, but I'm sure that would blow our cover. I can't help but do something reassuring, though, as our "execution" is about to occur. I can't stand to see him looking so scared; he reminds me too much of James. I can't bear to look at James--I'm sure that whatever face he's making isn't one I want to see.I can talk to Peter, though.

"Peter," I say as the executioner checks the last in line, "I know it's scary." he's still shaking, but I can tell he's looking at me. "But there's not much to be afraid of. Whatever happens, we're still going together, okay?"" I smile gently, noticing his limbs staying still. "We've had a good life," I say louder, closing my eyes, determined to NOT look at James, "full of adventure, and love... we've all found a place where we belong." The courtyard seems to be holding its collective breath. I can hear footsteps nearing the lever, the one that will send us all to our deaths, and I suddenly find my eyes open, staring at the mismatched pair out in the crowd. He's struggling trying to break free, and I can see the panic settling in on his face, the fear--

"James," I call out, watching as time seems to still. A hand is resting on the lever. Peter is staring at me. Mira is weeping softly. Ted's stomach growls. Alex smirks. Green and blue eyes find mine.

"It's a pleasure to serve you, Captain."

The lever is pulled. I'm falling, Peter's scream in my ears and James' look of shock imprinted on the backs of my eyes, and praying that Hix knew what he was doing when he was playing with those knots.