simplestgift: (Hidden anger.)
Archie Kennedy ([personal profile] simplestgift) wrote2012-12-19 01:44 pm

Thirty-Eight Bells: [Written/Action]

Elizabeth Swann has gone home.

[That's pretty much all he can manage. People needed to know. He won't answer any messages until very late tonight. In the meantime, he is pretty much going to wall himself up in his house. Not in his room, though. His room still smells like her.

He found her wedding ring. It was lying on her night stand yesterday morning when he first woke to find her gone.

All things considered...he's not doing as badly as he might be. At least, he's convincing himself of that. Trying to. They always knew this was a probability, after all.

But that didn't make much of a difference in the end, did it?]
all7seas: (tied you to the kitchen chair)


[personal profile] all7seas 2012-12-19 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, bloody No, not so soon. Not already. They were supposed to grow old together, the two of them. They were supposed to have babies that Jack could help train up to piracy.

Or not. Kennedy wasn't a man with any fate at all. He was making it up as he went along.

"Lad. Oh, Archie-lad. 'M sorry."
all7seas: (a hanging)


[personal profile] all7seas 2012-12-19 08:00 pm (UTC)(link)
"Aye, lad. We knew. Any day.

Was it worth it?"

How could it not be worth it? It was Elizabeth Swann.
all7seas: (hear me out)


[personal profile] all7seas 2012-12-19 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
"Of course," Jack echoed. "And how could it not be? Look, lad -- McCoy's...gone. Again. But he left this bottle..."
all7seas: (must be 1000 things you would die for)


[personal profile] all7seas 2012-12-19 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Not a magical genie that will bring Elizabeth Swann back, no.


Maybe the next best thing, though.
all7seas: (breaking through bending spoons)


[personal profile] all7seas 2012-12-20 12:11 am (UTC)(link)
"Be by in a bit."

And, true to his word, Jack set off soon with the bottle in his hand, singing softly to himself. It would be a cold Christmas for Kennedy this year, even with his Hornblower still about. Perhaps they should both come to Seven.

That was an idea, he decided, born of closeness to Buffy Summers. Eventually he knocked on Kennedy's door.

herotypical: [ sad ; neutral ] (✝ and they checked my pulse)

[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Buffy touched the words hours after they'd appeared in her journal. Her feelings are conflicted. Complex. But not half as complex as she knew Archie's must be. And for these twin reasons, it took her longer to fetch her coat than it should have done.

And she took the long way through the village. There was snow. Soft, festive heaps of the stuff. Snowmen. Decorations. That morning, a little elf had shouted at her to do some sort of deed and Buffy had ignored it. She wasn't in the mood.

Upon reaching the house, she rapped sharply on the door. And if the door wasn't answered? Well -- she just might very well break in. Buffy would offer her support in one way or another, but she had to get to the grieving man first.
herotypical: [ neutral ; sad ] (✝ god i pity the violins)

[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)
She said nothing. What was there to say? And for a long moment, she didn't even move. Simply stood. Perhaps the loss of Liz didn't weigh all that heavily upon her. Perhaps a tiny sliver of her -- the one who knew the whole story -- was glad to see the back of her. Murderess and another man's wife. It had been painfully difficult for her to divorce those concepts from the pirate king.

It did not mean that she was without her sympathies. So now -- still silent -- she tried to slip by Archie and gain entrance to the house. In a moment, she would remember to soften and be anything other than a steel-cored, awkward presence.
herotypical: [ sad ; neutral ] (✝ we're splitting atoms)

[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 08:09 pm (UTC)(link)
He retreated. Her mouth opened. No sound came forth. And so she stood alone for a moment -- raking her thoughts across a dozen coal-beds. Then she remembered a promise she'd once made to a pirate, fresh in the wake of her own loss.

Buffy followed into the kitchen -- eyeing up his current process. "Forget the hot drinks. You? You're coming with me."

And she held out a hand. It took remarkable self-control not to simply grab Archie and drag him.
herotypical: [ angry ; snarky ] (✝ to function -- it's hereditary)

[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Buffy closed her fingers around his. A tight squeeze -- the surrogate fierce hug, if you will -- and then she was coaxing him back towards the door. In all the painful tension, she'd neglected to remove her own boots and now she urged him to put on his own.

"Wrap up warm. You'll need it."

No other hints. No other clues. Very likely, the Slayer was making it up as she went.
herotypical: [ neutral ; angry ; snark ; bite me ] (✝ protège moi)

[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 08:23 pm (UTC)(link)
"Far-ish. But not too far. Tell me -- do you know what a polar bear plunge is?"

In a blink, Buffy had her journal out and was scribbling a note with some ferocious speed. Making an arrangement. Clearing out a space. Calling in a favour. When it was done, she finally glanced up and purposefully met Archie's eyes.

Her heart cracked.
herotypical: [ angry ] (✝ in these love drowned eyes)

[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 08:29 pm (UTC)(link)
"Try not to do that. Take a few guesses, I mean. It's worse if you think about it."

Buffy reached for the doorknob, pausing only to wonder whether she should arrange for a change of clothing. A thermos of something. Such arrangements would be responsible. Grown-up. Useful. But being those things required time. And right now, she knew, time only meant more agony for her dear friend.

So the door was opened. "After you?"
herotypical: [ happy ; neutral ] (✝ where the lights are)

[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 09:14 pm (UTC)(link)
And follow she did -- after shutting the door -- with her hands stuck deep in her pockets. Her chin in the air. Something was still obviously afoot, for the snow somehow remained so perfectly fluffy and thick. Wonderlandish. Buffy knew that other houses saw the arrival of elves, but she didn't ask Archie about his. It seemed a laughable sort of question. A conversation for another time or not at all.

Much like any other conversation, really. So they walked to the barracks-based teleporter in silence, unless at any point Archie saw fit to speak up.
herotypical: [ snarky ; angry ; hands ] (✝ you're all cold)

[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)
The silence wasn't comfortable. How could it ever be that? But it was, at least, somewhat companionable -- in that Archie was not the sort of person that Buffy could be silent alongside. It took a great deal of trust for her to be able to resist spewing banality into the vacuum created by a walking silence. It took a lot of care. And that care was not difficult to drum up for Archie's sake.

She did, however, resume conversation come the other side of teleportation. As she ducked her way out of the ruined fort: "This won't make you feel better.'ll make you feel something else. If you're really lucky, it'll last a whole split second.

Do you trust me?"
Edited 2012-12-19 23:14 (UTC)
herotypical: [ snark ; action ; busy ] (✝ i won't let you choke)

[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 11:47 pm (UTC)(link)
"You're going to...

One -- grab my hand.

Two -- run like the dickens across the snow-strewn sand all the way to the end of the pier.

Three -- pause ever so briefly to remove your boots and jacket at the very least, all else is up to your own discretion and how many of Jack's drier castaways you want to borrow from Cullen House.

Aaaand four -- jump. Don't think. Just jump. Plunge. With me. Don't even say anything. Just...nod if you understand. And I'll count to three..."
herotypical: [ neutral ] (✝ he won't forsake me)


[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"One," she said in a voice that had dropped suddenly to a whisper. Certainly, the option to march the man right off the dock had occurred to her on their silent promenade; however, Buffy had to draw a line in the snow. Somewhere. And that somewhere came with a heavy consideration for consent. Power. Permission. Collaboration.
herotypical: [ neutral ; sad ; busy ; collar ] (✝ whether i'm right or wrong)


[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 11:53 pm (UTC)(link)
And choice.


She blew air past her lips and only now realized that this side of the mountains felt...chillier, somehow. Perhaps it was the ocean. God. She knew this was going to be a terrible freeze. And she was glad she'd warned him, now, because it meant she couldn't chicken out.

Buffy stomped her feet. She slid a glance sideways at her lonely, left-behind friend.
herotypical: [ happy ; action ; busy ] (✝ candlelight & heaving tones)


[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-19 11:57 pm (UTC)(link)

The countdown had built into a shout. She grabbed his wrist with a firm grip and kicked off the sand. It gave such poor traction; she practically stumbled on her first step.

Her momentum pulled him along. Her insistence egged him forward. This was a no-man's land and she was inviting him to cross it alongside her. It brought them nowhere near closure, nor within sight of healing. But it brought them somewhere.
herotypical: [ neutral; action; busy ] (✝ shouting love at the world)

guh sorry didn't notice a typo until this morning

[personal profile] herotypical 2012-12-20 12:25 am (UTC)(link)
She tore at her jacket. A button popped free and rolled into the eerily still waters not three feet from where she stood. The coat, along with her boots and her scarf and even the sweater she'd been wearing over a plain tshirt, ended up in a pile on the boards.

What she hadn't -- and wouldn't -- tell Archie Kennedy was that the last time she'd recklessly jumped into off-season waters was the day she and Jack had learned Elizabeth Swann had blown into town. Although that simple truth connected the two moments, she'd not brought him out here for that reason. Instead, it was the recklessness that was important. She and he had spoken once about how they might've once treated their lives -- perhaps with too little value. Perhaps with too much expendability. This was not one of those moments, but it took a wide step to the left of the same concept. A mad dash. A sudden absence from responsibility.

Surrender. Of a sort.

She felt his arms tangle with his and -- in spite of herself -- let out a surprised holler as they fell. Buffy braced for impact and soon, frigid water was all around her. It squeezed at her lungs and sliced to the bone.

It overwhelmed her and wiped her clean.
Edited 2012-12-20 12:35 (UTC)
thedicearecast: (heartbroken and afraid)


[personal profile] thedicearecast 2012-12-19 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)
The first sounds that come from Amelia's journal aren't words, but the sound of the book falling from her hands. Elizabeth had been a friend and a teacher both, and the loss hit Amelia hard. But her pain would be nothing next to his, and Amelia knew it. She'd seen how happy Archie was with her, how much he cared for her.

There wasn't anything that could fill that sort of void.

She picked up the journal from the ground a few seconds later, this time getting out a message. There really wasn't anything she could offer, outside of sympathies.

"I'm so sorry, Archie."
greenjacketed: (♖ but your soul you must keep)

[ written ]

[personal profile] greenjacketed 2012-12-21 08:18 pm (UTC)(link)
KENNEDY -- [ the letters are just on the cusp of messy. sharpe has taken his time when forming them. although he'd never spoken with the lad about his marriage to the piratess, he'd known of its existence. and his heart silently ached for the pair. ]

My condolences. The loss of a good woman always cuts deep, never mind the how of it. [ the how of it. whether she leaves you or she's sent home or she dies. always. cuts. deep. ]

-- R. SHARPE [ screw ranks, tonight. for once, they're not important.

sharpe nearly leaves it at that. simple; avoiding overt sentiment. but his bleeding heart eventually gets the better of him -- as it always does.

he scribbles something else: ]
Do what you must. Get roaring drunk, or whatever it is you do in the face of disaster. And when you are ready to gut some Third Party bastards, give us a shout.