Codex - Sinking [POTC: AWE, Norribeth]

At four years old, Katherine Swann already takes to a habit, which will follow her for the rest of her life: sinking in the sand on the coast, as the tides slip back and forth, nipping at her feet.

But the first grains she drifts in are of Shipwreck Cove, and later Singapore, then Tortuga, the rest varying.

To Elizabeth her daughter’s vigil is disturbing, if a little uncanny, as if waiting for something (someone). But when she works up the nerve to question—not voicing her opinion at all—the girl, little more than a toddler really, looks up and states matter-of-factly that she likes the sea and the sand, and it is the best view here.

"It’s nice mama, it’s," and her little brow furrows, searching for the right words, wishing she could run up to Master Teague’s library for a dictionary. "It’s like when you or Uncle Jack or Uncle Barbossa sing me to sleep."

Elizabeth stares down at her daughter; she replies, "It’s soothing."

"Aye, it’s soothing, that’s how you say it," Katherine nods eagerly, satisfied with putting a name to the feeling, heedless of the fact that she had dragged out the ‘o’ sound too long.

Wanting a little more life in the affair, Elizabeth easily persuades the girl to build a sandcastle with her farther inland. Piling and trimming sand, Katherine trying to imitate her mother’s calculating hands, who has unwittingly guided construction toward a replica of the fort back at Port Royale. Elizabeth backs off immediately when realizing the resemblance, just watching her daughter take over, starting with the addition of a moat. The sandcastle’s resemblance still stands, and Elizabeth stares at it, remembering; and she wonders if Norrington had brought her up there so high for the view of the sea. If the sea had soothed him before, and had hoped it would do it again, as he lay his heart out before her.

"Mama?" Katherine looks up at her mother, her small eyes puzzled and lips moving nervously. But her mother remains just as vacant all the way back to the apartment, where she leaves her there in the care of Pintel and Ragetti as she meets with Master Teague and the other Lords for business. The little girl remains unmoved by the duo’s attempts at cheer; she dwells on her mother, slumped on the wide table and looking at the sea longingly.

It’s soothing and peaceful, and never ever sad (like mama often is); it doesn’t feel much of anything, that’s the thing, it just is.