Giving Barbossa that darkest look that can ever be mustered from anyone, Max drew her sword and thrust it through his chest, staring into his eyes as he did so. ⌠I hope that death doesn▓t bother you┘because where I am sending you┘there is no hope for return this time.■ she sneered at the blade went deeper into his skin, the hilt of her sword pressing to his shirt.
Her anger was enough to scare even herself, she had just killed a man and she felt nothing but anger┘what was wrong with her? Had death changed her so much, or had she really just turned to hating her own killer enough to want revenge? His blood poured over the hilt of her sword and dripped on her hand.
With a hard shove, she managed to push him over the side of the ship towards the locker that surely existed. As he toppled over the side, she wrenched her arm back, pulling out her sword with such force that the blood that had pooled on her hand and the hilt splattered on anyone standing remotely close to her. Standing on a pour of the both of their blood, she looked over the side of the ship and half whispered, ⌠It▓s to the locker for you.■
Taking a deep breath, she quickly dropped the blood drenched sword and stepped back quickly. So quickly in fact that she nearly tripped over her own feet. She spun around putting her hands on her head, blood or not and closed her eyes tightly. She felt hands grab her wrists and move them to her side as arms wrapped around her.
⌠It▓s alright┘it▓s all over┘■ she heard a comforting crooning voice tell her. She wasn▓t paying enough attention to know who exactly it was. Her mind was jumbled, how was she alive? One moment she had been traveling through the sea, the next she was back on the ship killing a man that had killed her seconds before.
(yes, it makes no sense now but hopefully I will have the rest of it figured out later.)