Weddings were always wonderous occasions though Abigail always had a bit of mixed feelings about them. In some aspects, she loved the whole concept - thinking it was romantic and beautiful, and wonderous - but she also didn't like the stifling dress, the polite conversations, the foreboding that reminded her that one day it would be she who was to be the pride. Which, when she was younger was a romantic concept. She fantasized who would it be, how handsome he was, how would he act, how she'd act - all the stuff that most young girls romanticized about. But as she grew older and realized how many marriages were more conveniences and matches than true love, the more weddings made her feel nervous as the thought of marrying a stranger just didn't sit well with her.

Elizabeth's wedding was even more so. Not only did Abigail know that even now her parents were looking for a suitable match for her but she also knew that Elizabeth was not really in love with Commodore Norrington. In fact, her love was someone that she'd never be able to have due to status. And that made her sad.

Still, being the daughter of a wealthy British lord, long accustomed to putting on a societal mask, she smiled, was courteous and acted like everyone else.

The location was amazing, breathtaking even, but in tight corsets and with the warm tropical sun beating down, it was a bit warm and as the ceremony dragged on, it got warmer and harder for her to breath. The crowd pushing in around her made her a bit claustrophobic and didn't help. 

Sighing as she watched the priest yawn on and on. Apparently, he forgot a bit that this was a wedding, not a sermon. Moving slightly back, she made her way through the crowd to the edge of the battlements. Not only to get a bit of fresh air but to maybe help her restlessness but getting a view of the sea again.

She loved the sea. Always had and hopefully always will. She didn't know what about it called to her but she'd rather be on the sand with the waves lapping over her feet and ankles than be in town. She'd rather stand on the deck of a ship inhaling the sea air than any societies balls and galas. Her mother would be so disappointed.

Spotting movement on the ship below, she frowned, attention diverted. She couldn't really tell what was going on but her curiosity was peaked. She moved slightly forward, forgetting where she was, when she slipped. Startled, she didn't even have time to scream before she plunged off the battlement and toward the ocean below. Those who had been around her, screamed on her behalf even as she hit the water, the heavy skirts pulling her down even as the contact with the water from such a height disoriented her a bit.