Snippets and plans for later

The waves of the Caribbean lapped gently against the docks of Port Royal, seagulls dancing on the morning breeze as ships prepared to depart and arrive with their precious cargo. It seemed destined to be an ordinary day—until a small, waterlogged boat limped its way into the harbor.

Catra gripped a bucket, furiously shoveling water from the boat's hull while glaring up at her brother. Water splashed against her fur, a constant reminder of the curse that transformed her—a transformation she'd grown to secretly cherish. "Can you get down here and help, Jack?" she called out, her feline ears twitching with irritation.

Jack Sparrow, perched on the mast, was more interested in the unmanned ship floating in the bay. "Give me a sec," he responded, his trademark smirk playing across his face.

Their boat was barely staying afloat—a testament to their typical brand of chaotic adventure. Catra's curse meant water was particularly uncomfortable, her fur matting and her slit-pupiled eyes—one yellow, one blue—narrowing with each splash. But she'd long since accepted her new form, even if it meant disguising herself to avoid being labeled a witch or, worse, being burned as one.

Even if all she had to do was remove the necklace, Catra knew the curse was more complex than a simple piece of jewelry. The transformation was intricate, changing each person differently—for her, it manifested in a feline form that both fascinated and challenged her.

Her curse had transformed her into a hybrid creature: pointed ears that twitched with every sound, a sleek tail that betrayed her emotions, and fur that covered her body in a mix of soft browns and grays. Her most striking feature was her mismatched eyes—one a piercing yellow, the other a deep blue—which seemed to hold stories of their own. Sharp claws replaced her human nails, a constant reminder of her newfound nature.

Disguise became her closest ally. In a world where witchcraft could mean death and being a pirate already raised suspicions, Catra learned to blend in. Her pirate attire cleverly concealed most of her unusual features, though her fangs and distinctive eyes remained a challenge. Yet, she found a perverse joy in the constant game of concealment—a challenge that kept her sharp and alive.

Public spaces became a delicate dance of shadows and careful positioning. One wrong move, one slip of her disguise, could mean the difference between freedom and a fate worse than her curse. But Catra had never been one to back down from a challenge.

Soon enough, Jack swung down from the mast with a rope, landing with a splash that sent water cascading around Catra. She jumped back, her fur bristling with irritation. "We couldn't have commandeered a better ship?" she growled. "You had to pick the smallest boat possible?"

Jack's trademark smirk never wavered. "Perhaps we won't need much of a ship," he replied, grabbing another bucket and joining her in the futile attempt to keep their vessel afloat. "Just a slight miscalculation on our part."

"Yeah, well... can't exactly blame you for that," Catra muttered, her tail swishing with a mix of frustration and resignation. As they passed a rocky archway leading to the cove, her ears twitched, and she fell silent.

The scene before them was grim. Lodged against the rocky walls, a wooden plank hung with three ropes—each supporting the lifeless form of a skeleton. A blood-stained warning board stood sentinel, a stark reminder of the brutal justice that awaited pirates in these waters.

Without a word, Jack and Catra removed their hats. A moment of respect for fallen comrades, brief but profound. The ocean breeze whispered around them, carrying the weight of unspoken stories.

"And besides," Jack said, adjusting his hat, "this was your choice to come here. Planning to swoon over a girl, as I recall."

Catra's tail stood on end—her telltale sign of embarrassment. Jack knew her too well. Their venture into Port Royal had two primary objectives: commandeer a larger boat and, more importantly, reconnect with Elizabeth Swann.

It had been a whirlwind romance. Catra had met Elizabeth years ago, slowly winning her over with tales of adventure and the curious story of her magical transformation. Elizabeth hadn't been frightened—she'd been fascinated. Their stolen moments, hidden from her father's watchful eye, had been perfect. Until someone betrayed Catra to the local guards, forcing her to flee.

"I hope we can rekindle the flame," Catra mumbled, her claws unconsciously clenching. "Still need to figure out who told the guards. James, I think? Left him a nice scar."

Jack's eyebrow arched. "That's why you rushed out of town? Because the guards caught you with your pants down?"

The bucket of water that hit him was entirely predictable.

"About that teasing," Jack shook his head, dumping water out of his hat, "at least this woman doesn't have to worry about you being a eunuch." He glanced sideways at Catra, that familiar mischievous glint in his eye.

The boat was beyond salvation now, slowly surrendering to the Caribbean waters. With practiced coordination, Catra and Jack climbed to the crow's nest just as their vessel made its final descent. Port Royal's dockworkers stopped mid-task, mouths agape at the spectacle—two pirates casually perched atop a sinking boat as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Port Royal had seen its share of strange arrivals, but the Sparrow siblings were in a league of their own. As the crow's nest aligned perfectly with the dock, they stepped off with the grace of dancers, making an impossible landing look effortless.

A dock worker approached, his ledger open and his expression official. "Hold up there," he called out, "It's a shilling to tie up your boat to the dock."

Catra's tail swished with amusement. She glanced back at the now-submerged boat—nothing remained but a few splinters and the top of the mast. "Does it even count as a boat anymore?" she muttered, her mismatched eyes glinting with mischief.

Jack, never one to miss an opportunity, pulled out three silver coins. "What do you say to three shillings," he proposed, sliding the coins across the ledger, "and we forget the names?"

The dock worker's eyes flickered—first to the coins, then to the pair before him. A young boy standing nearby watched the exchange with wide-eyed fascination. Catra, catching the boy's gaze, discretely flicked a shilling his way. A quick wink and a finger to her lips sealed their silent pact.

In an instant, the transaction was complete. "Welcome to Port Royal, Mr. Smith and Ms. Smith," the dock worker said, pocketing the coins and closing his ledger with a practiced snap.

Catra and Jack continued on as the dock worker went to inspect the sorry state of their ship, conveniently leaving his coin pouch exposed. A quick sleight of hand, and the pouch was discreetly pocketed—just another day in the life of the Sparrow siblings.

"So," Jack smirked, stopping at the edge of the dock and eyeing a nearby navy ship, "while you go on your small adventure to woo the said girl, I'll go commandeer us a ship, savvy?"

Catra sighed, blowing a few stray hairs from beneath her hat. "Ten minutes to reconnect after years apart? Don't be surprised if we end up with a third crew member." Her tail twitched with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

"Just be silent enough that I can't hear you over the ship's creaks," Jack quipped, quickly splitting off before Catra could swat at him. He left her a flustered, slightly blushing mess—exactly as he intended.

Her first instinct was to head to the governor's manor, but excited town whispers about a promotion ceremony at the fort caught her attention. The guest of honor? James Norrington—the very man who had betrayed her years ago. And knowing Elizabeth's father, he'd insist Elizabeth participate, likely hoping to set her up with the newly promoted Commodore.

'Oh, what a delightful reunion this will be...' Catra thought, making her way towards the fort. Her hands tucked into her pockets, careful to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. 'Infiltrating the fort should be the easiest part—everyone will be at the ceremony.'

The fort's security was laughably lax. Two guards stood watch, their spatial awareness so poor that Catra scaled the wall with ease, hidden by convenient foliage. Port Royal might rarely face attacks, but its complacency worried her. These guards would be useless in a real assault.

Perched along the ramparts, Catra observed the courtyard ceremony. Soldiers, upper-class civilians, and the governor filled the space. Her tail unconsciously slipped from its hiding place, swaying as she scanned the crowd.

Her goal was simple: find Elizabeth, spend a few precious moments together, and whisk her away to the ship—with her permission, of course. Knowing her and Jack's luck, complications were inevitable.

A quick inventory check: her swords needed replacing after years of use, a recently acquired flintlock pistol tucked away, and her trusty whip—more versatile than most would imagine. When Elizabeth finally came into view, Catra's pupils dilated with pure joy, an involuntary purr escaping her throat.

Elizabeth looked uncomfortable, frantically using her fan, her elaborate dress clearly restricting her breathing. 'London fashion,' Catra thought with a mix of amusement and concern, 'designed to look beautiful, not to let women actually breathe.'

The ceremony concluded quickly, guests beginning to mingle. Soldiers dispersed, completely unaware of the feline pirate moving silently among them. Catra tracked Elizabeth's movements, waiting for the perfect moment to approach.

Her opportunity came as Elizabeth sought a moment of solitude near the warning bell, struggling to catch her breath. Just as Catra prepared to reveal herself, James Norrington appeared.

'If you're going to interrupt, at least notice she's struggling,' Catra thought, her tail flaring with irritation. 'Typical.'

Catra ignored James Norrington's proposal, observing how he seemed oblivious to Elizabeth's distress until she dramatically collapsed and plunged over the fort's side. Waiting for the panicked Commodore and his soldiers to rush away, she approached the precarious ledge.

Her tail twitched nervously as she surveyed the rocky waters below. The potential rescue looked complicated—jagged rocks threatened to turn a daring save into a fatal mistake. But Catra had never been one to back down from a challenge.

"Screw it," she muttered, her trademark blend of determination and recklessness taking over.

Her descent was anything but graceful. A misplaced step sent her tumbling, gravity and pure luck becoming her only allies. The impact with the water was brutal—a shock of cold that knocked the breath from her lungs and sent waves of pain rippling through her fur-covered body.

Underwater, the world transformed. A dark, foggy landscape stretched before her, eerily silent except for the muffled sounds of the distant surface. Elizabeth lay unconscious against the seabed, her elaborate dress a hindrance to any potential rescue.

With practiced precision, Catra used her sharp claws to tear away the restrictive fabric. The corset remained—a dangerous constraint that could mean death if not carefully removed. Wrapping her arms around Elizabeth, she began the arduous task of dragging her to the surface.

Breaking through the water, Catra was surprised to find clouded skies overhead. Jack stood on the dock, flanked by two guards—a sight that would require explanation later.

"She's not breathing," one guard announced, his voice tight with concern.

Catra pushed past him, her movements swift and precise. With a single calculated motion, she sliced through the corset, yanking it off and positioning Elizabeth to expel the water from her lungs.

Elizabeth coughed, consciousness returning. "Catra," she whispered, her voice a mixture of relief and disbelief.

"Elizabeth, you're okay," Catra responded, her relief palpable. Her eyes inadvertently traced Elizabeth's form, then suddenly fixated on a gold pendant resting between her breasts.

A skeleton medallion. Dread washed over her.

Lifting the pendant slowly, feeling Elizabeth shiver at her touch, Catra's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper: "Where did you get this?"