You are a raging sea
I pull myself out every day
I plead insanity
Because I can’t leave but I can’t stay
The blooms were full and healthy, vibrant red’s, blushing pinks, pastel purples, and riveting yellows on grass or forest stalks of green. Each bouquet tied with ribbons or wrapped in lace, lain out for choosing. The shop a veritable library of the floral kind, as to be expected with the eagerness of wedding bells. The planner offered each sample for viewing, the woman herself filled to the brim with nearly the same excitement of the bride to be. Sure a wedding meant a cash gain for her, but she could hardly deny that she greatly enjoyed each ceremony. Seeing the happy couple, their hands linked, and love in their eyes, ready for partnership, ready for a life together. It meant just as much to one Gisele Ventora that she could plan a couple’s happiest day, as the money did.
Since the moment this couple had walked in the blond had seen nothing but happiness from the soon to be bride. So upbeat and lovely, her hair deep red, and her eyes an attractive lit up hazel. Annalene Avalona was an all-around beautiful woman, and her pep was just adorable. Her fiancé, well…. Now that Gisele thought about it she hadn’t spoken much with the older man, he seemed quite content to let his partner do all of the talking and planning, in fact she wasn’t even really sure she’d heard much out of him outside of a few words, two of those being his first and last name.
He’d smiled at Annalene on occasion when she found something that caught her fancy, but didn’t seem too keen on giving his own input. This wasn’t an uncommon practice though, the blond had seen it many times, some men just simply didn’t care for all the hustle and bustle of wedding planning. She did wonder though about the man, he and Annalene were a bit of an odd couple but he seemed kind. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, older features with a scar that ran down across his left eye. He had a greying beard, that was curly and in some cases considered scraggly in its presentation, with likewise long wavy hair that was also greying and framed his face.
The Organizer could see highlights of an orange red color running through both his hair and beard, traces of what must have been a deep lively hue at one time. A blue bandanna held back his locks from his face, which matched the blue of his long brocade and lapelled coat. Knee high black boots, with deep grey jeans, and a white dress shirt half unbuttoned completed the look. All in all, the man looked a bit out of his timeline, but he wasn’t unattractive. Gisele lost herself for a moment in the observing of the man, and had begun trying to puzzle out if his shark tooth earring was real and if that was a snake emblem on his necklace when Annalene caught her attention with the flowers once more.
Orchid’s, white with vivid pink at the center. “Oh look at these ones.” The bride to be turned to her fiancé and held up the sample of flowers. “What do you say to orchids? They’re so lovely, or maybe the hibiscus?” There was but a slight quirk of a smile from the bearded man and he nodded a bit, but didn’t seem too interested. Gisele smiled at the redheaded woman as she turned back. “I think we’ll go with the orchids.” Yet another decision made with little to no input from the soon to be husband, it was a bit odd honestly. There wasn’t a concern, a comment, or even a complaint from him, he almost seemed not present. She decided to change that, or at least get a few more words from the blue eyed man.
“So, out of curiosity, I know that Ms. Avalona works as a secretary at the EITC, what’s your occupation Mr. Barbossa?” She asked, holding her clipboard of lists to her chest in a relaxed fashion. The older man stepped forward some and looked to mull the words over for a moment before speaking. “……I teach literature…. At Tortuga University.” It came out slightly cut, as if he were watching his speech, changing it before speaking as one might do with an accent, or someone who isn’t a native English speaker. It then made a bit more sense to Gisele in that moment, perhaps it wasn’t that he was being rude or didn’t care, maybe he was foreign.
Fresh outta high school, they were young, some of them very young if they’d left high school ahead of time. Some were in their first year at university, obvious by their large clueless looks, and evident immaturity….. then again not everyone grew out of said immaturity so age mattered little. The teachers at Tortuga University were a unique bunch themselves, and with this wave of new students crashing in it seemed things were to get more interesting, and more crowded. All in all though, many of the students would be gone before the first semester even completed, dropped out, switched classes, or changed majors, there were a few reasons. Tia Dalma stood outside her classroom watching the flood of students file through the hall looking for classes. Her dreadlocks were pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head, and her lips were turned in a pleasant smile.
Between the inconsistent masses of students, a set of familiar boot steps made her alert, and she fell right in next to the literature teacher. “New classes.” She said with a grin his way and he gave a half assed grunt in return. “Aye, an be more of a chance te have em drop out on me.” The woman gave a laugh shaking her head. “As if dis ever bothered you before, don’t dink I don’t know, you frighten dem intentionally.” The older man smirked at the red dressed woman, and she crossed her arms at him. “Not be me fault, ifn’ they be too soft they not be takin’ a class with Barbossa.” He shined up the green apple he held on the lapel of his coat and took a bite. Tia just gave a laugh shaking her head. “Well try not to scare away too many of dem dis time.”
The hallway cleared after a few more moments and the dance instructor left him to his class, returning to her own. The class was near absolute silent except for a few small conversations that pattered out when he entered. Hector walked to the front tossing a few files he had in his other hand on the desk, and taking another bite of his apple. He didn’t regard the students right away, allowing them instead to settle in, his blue eyes glancing around at them. A few shifted in their seats uneasily and he held back a laugh. After a few more bites of the apple and an unsettling silence he spoke. “Hector Barbossa…. don’ call me professor…. nor Hector, nor teach, nor prof, or any other bloody ripped apart word.” He saw a blond young woman grimace at his firm tone and odd speech. “It be Barbossa, an only Barbossa.” He snatched a list from the file on his desk and gave an amused look to the same blond when she noticed his long, slightly curved nails. His sea eyes scanned over the names before he gave a small huff of laughter looking up. “Will Turner?”
A young man with dark brown hair pulled back in a tie and a goatee glanced up, his hazel eyes meeting that of the teachers. “Yes?” The grey haired man stepped over, boots tapping on the floor. “Ye wouldn’t happen te be related te a man by the same name would ye?” The brunette student sighed and nodded shifting the scarf at his neck so it rested more comfortably. “Yes my father is William Turner as well.” He didn’t like the attention of everyone on him, well except of course that of his girlfriend, Elizabeth Swann, who’d looked unhappy since the moment she saw their odd professor. “Ol’ Bootstrap Bill? I was in college with em.” Will gave an audible groan at hearing his dad’s nickname and caught the slight laugh his girlfriend gave, before he dropped his head into a hand. Of course this man knew his father, lucky him. His nail moved back up the line of names and he hummed before speaking and cutting off the amusement of the blond in front of Will. “Elizabeth Swann.” The brown eyed woman cleared her throat and held up a hand. “Yes…s…Barbossa?” She asked, stopping herself from being so formal despite her wish too. “Ye be keepin in mind, I not give special treatment, even te the governor's daughter.”
Elizabeth looked up at him from her desk and pursed her lips, giving up on any pleasantness. If he thought for one second she would try to coast by in his class without knowing a bit about her, he was severely mistaken. “I hardly expected any special treatment Mr. Barbossa, and you really shouldn’t judge a person simply by knowing their family.” Instead of the anger she expected, the bearded man smirked at her and tapped a finger, brandishing a large stoned ring, on her desk. “Miss Swann, I like ye.” She blinked at him and looked away, brows curved in confusion. The blue eyed man went over a few more names, including a Pintle, who was a short slightly round young man with a bald head, and a Ragetti who was sat next to him, lanky and a bit nerdy with an eye patch over one eye. His students were an interesting bunch this semester, and he could already tell which of them would no doubt be transferring or dropping, maybe even before the week was out.
He dropped the paper back on the dark wood desk and grabbed up his apple again, finishing it off in a few more bites, before tossing the core into a trashcan. He was about to go over the basis of what he’d be teaching in the first half of the semester when the door opened. Everyone glanced toward the new arrival in curiosity, even Barbossa himself. Brown bunched and folded suede boots, led up to a set of fine, almost caramel tanned, hairless legs. The blue jean cutoff shorts were tight and very short, with a colorful sash tied at the waist and what looked like a string of beads and shark teeth hung from it. The shirt airy and light, white, with open cuts to show off the shoulders and a tied fringe like design to it at the end of each sleeve. Dark black dreadlocks were held back with a red bandanna, hair strewn with beads and other shiny trinkets. A curved moustache and a beaded goatee, sat around a pair of full pretty lips, and dark kohl lined the loveliest set of whiskey brown eyes Hector had ever seen.
“Sorry I’m late, bit of trouble finding the class.” The deep skinned newcomer said and shifted the brown book bag hanging off one of his shoulders. The bearded teacher came back to himself after a moment from wherever he’d gone and eyed the young man at the door. “And ye would be?” He asked snatching his list of students up again. A cocky smirk was the first reply from the man. “Sparrow…. Jack Sparrow, savvy?” The only seat left open was one at the front and the black haired young man seemed to sashay over to it, one hand up and his hips moving with such a fluid sensuality one would think it practiced. “Will, Elizabeth.” The blond and brunette couple greeted him with small nods, the woman leaning her chin on a hand. “Hi Jack.”
He slid into the seat and crossed one leg over the other, that smirk still in place, and looked at the professor expectantly. Barbossa’s eyes narrowed, lip curling into what might pass as a smile before he started in on the explanation. However, through it all he found his eyes kept drawing toward the bohemian dressed beauty in the front row, and it had started to annoy him. He never looked close enough at his students to notice what kind of tattoos they had; there was a Sparrow by the way, on his right wrist, and damn it all he was doing it again. When he’d gone over the syllabus and what text book they’d need there was a feeling of relief deep in Hector’s chest. Now, he didn’t have to pay attention to them for the rest of the class, they’d start officially when next they were together. As the students settled into their own conversations however, he could still feel dark eyes on him, and looked up to be faced with that bothersome smirk of the dreadlocked young man.
Some of the students started to leave early when they noticed that was all that would be covered for the day. Elizabeth slung her bag over a shoulder standing with her boyfriend. They passed Jack’s desk along the way, and she smiled at him. “Me and Will are going to get coffee before our other classes, want to join us?” The bohemian styled student grinned with a nod, popping out of his chair, his book bag hung on his shoulder in one smooth movement. Barbossa sat a moment glaring after the caramel skinned man. He’d never been so aggravated by a student on the first damn day of class, and he’d hardly spoken to him. He wasn’t even sure why he was aggravated.