Archie Kennedy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
simplestgift) wrote2012-03-18 01:51 pm
simplestgift) wrote2012-03-18 01:51 pm
Thirty Bells: [Action/Written]
[Archie Kennedy opens his eyes with his back against something hard, his wings spread out over solidness even as he grows aware of the prickle of grass underneath him. He is curled up on his side, wearing new feather trousers and shivering horribly. He hugs himself for warmth, and movement brings the rain to his attention. He is soaked.
My God, what did I lose? His hand grasps for the St. Michael pendant Horatio gave him for his birthday last year, only to find empty air.
He left it at home.
His wings twitch, and he twists to find himself pressed against a tall rock, probably near one of the lakes. His disorientation in full swing, he doesn’t even bother to try to figure out which lake it is. He sits up, waits for the world to stop whirling, and takes a shaky, hasty inventory.
Arms and legs. Nose and ears and eyes. Touch, taste, smell, sight, hearing. Ten fingers, ten toes, a wild mass of blond hair unbound and sticking to his damp neck and forehead.
What did he lose?
Still trembling, he curls against the rock and tries breathing for a bit.
Memories, maybe? Any holes in his memory? How is he to know?
Horatio. He remembers Horatio, thank God. Buffy, Jilly, Jack, Leonard, Elizabeth. Father is Finley Kennedy, mother is Elspeth, siblings Finley, Neil, and Abigail. His grandfather pushed him into the Navy. His first ship was the Swiftsure. Is everything important there?
Off on a mission, and now he's back as if he'd never left. Nothing hurts. The only pain now is in finding out what he paid to come back to life. And in telling…
No. He is not going to tell Horatio about another instance where he wasn’t able to protect him, especially from death. He can’t call for help, because anyone who finds him in this state will know, and no one can know.
His wings shiver, shaking off water, then wrap around his body as well as they can. He’s always so inclined to forget they exist, but they do help to stave off the rain and warm him a little. Then, weakly, his knees threatening to buckle under him, he stands up. It’s a long walk home, and he has to make it alone.
The next two hours pass in a haze as he finds the road and follows it, limiting himself to two thoughts every quarter-hour if he can help it. After a while, he doesn’t feel especially cold anymore, which he vaguely knows from his first appearance in Luceti is a bad sign. Sheltering in the tree village won’t help him get dry when he’s already soaked, so he continues at the quickest pace he can manage. It’d be even worse to die of hypothermia just after coming back from the dead.
In the village, he steals quietly toward the clothes shop, shivering hard and pale as a ghost.
It’s going to have to be a matter of putting on the face again. No one can suspect something is wrong. Those who aren’t scornful will be compassionate, and he doesn’t think he can take compassion right now.
The door to house 36 opens very, very quietly, and the lieutenant slips inside as if he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s there. As quickly as he can, he’ll find the St. Michael pendant and slip it on.
It takes some time, but in the evening, over a cup of tea in the tea shop, he writes on the journals, shortly:]
I’m back from my mission.
-AK
[At night, he goes out for a drink. He doesn't make it to Good Spirits.]
[OOC: First chronological tag goes to Amelia, last to John Watson.]
My God, what did I lose? His hand grasps for the St. Michael pendant Horatio gave him for his birthday last year, only to find empty air.
He left it at home.
His wings twitch, and he twists to find himself pressed against a tall rock, probably near one of the lakes. His disorientation in full swing, he doesn’t even bother to try to figure out which lake it is. He sits up, waits for the world to stop whirling, and takes a shaky, hasty inventory.
Arms and legs. Nose and ears and eyes. Touch, taste, smell, sight, hearing. Ten fingers, ten toes, a wild mass of blond hair unbound and sticking to his damp neck and forehead.
What did he lose?
Still trembling, he curls against the rock and tries breathing for a bit.
Memories, maybe? Any holes in his memory? How is he to know?
Horatio. He remembers Horatio, thank God. Buffy, Jilly, Jack, Leonard, Elizabeth. Father is Finley Kennedy, mother is Elspeth, siblings Finley, Neil, and Abigail. His grandfather pushed him into the Navy. His first ship was the Swiftsure. Is everything important there?
Off on a mission, and now he's back as if he'd never left. Nothing hurts. The only pain now is in finding out what he paid to come back to life. And in telling…
No. He is not going to tell Horatio about another instance where he wasn’t able to protect him, especially from death. He can’t call for help, because anyone who finds him in this state will know, and no one can know.
His wings shiver, shaking off water, then wrap around his body as well as they can. He’s always so inclined to forget they exist, but they do help to stave off the rain and warm him a little. Then, weakly, his knees threatening to buckle under him, he stands up. It’s a long walk home, and he has to make it alone.
The next two hours pass in a haze as he finds the road and follows it, limiting himself to two thoughts every quarter-hour if he can help it. After a while, he doesn’t feel especially cold anymore, which he vaguely knows from his first appearance in Luceti is a bad sign. Sheltering in the tree village won’t help him get dry when he’s already soaked, so he continues at the quickest pace he can manage. It’d be even worse to die of hypothermia just after coming back from the dead.
In the village, he steals quietly toward the clothes shop, shivering hard and pale as a ghost.
It’s going to have to be a matter of putting on the face again. No one can suspect something is wrong. Those who aren’t scornful will be compassionate, and he doesn’t think he can take compassion right now.
The door to house 36 opens very, very quietly, and the lieutenant slips inside as if he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s there. As quickly as he can, he’ll find the St. Michael pendant and slip it on.
It takes some time, but in the evening, over a cup of tea in the tea shop, he writes on the journals, shortly:]
I’m back from my mission.
-AK
[At night, he goes out for a drink. He doesn't make it to Good Spirits.]
[OOC: First chronological tag goes to Amelia, last to John Watson.]
no subject
no subject
No, no you don't. We've got to get you out of here.
[ John pats the other's face again. ]
Do you have anyone I can contact?
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Horatio Hornblower.
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Alright. Archie - come on, up.
[ The doctor reaches to try and haul the younger man up again. ]
You can stay up for a few dozen meters. Come on.
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He tries gripping John's arms to pull himself up. The moment he's on his feet, his knees buckle and he nearly falls.
He's got to do this. He has a little pride left yet, even if John is carrying nearly as much of his weight as he is.]
no subject
John does his best to get under the younger man once he's on his feet, wrapping an arm around the other's waist and squaring his weight in one of the most awkward imitations of a prop. He says nothing, tries to keep any sounds of effort to a minimum as he begins maneuvering them to the stairs. This is going to be interesting. ]
Alright. Need you to really pay attention to this, else we're both going to need someone to clean us up. One step at a time.
no subject
After four steps, he's shaking.
By the time they reach the stairs, he has to break for a few seconds
The stairs are a nightmare. He has to tighten both arms around the older man in order to steady himself, each step an individual hazard.
He does not lose track of time. He wishes it would be that easy. Every second is one he wishes was over, each minute stretched to two. His rebelling stomach, his spinning head, and his aching body all scream at him for rest. Just a little further.
When the clinic is finally in sight, Archie gains just a little strength at the utter closeness of the end.]
no subject
His long strides put him on Archie's side opposite the other man, and he nods his head in brief greeting.]
Captain Hornblower.
[It will do for an introduction right now. His more pressing concern:]
Archie. It's me.
[Not that he looks in much state to protest, but Horatio would prefer to say it, let Archie know.
And he moves to take one of the ill man's arms and wrap it around his shoulders, bearing some of the weight.
Once he's settled into the clinic, Horatio will ask John what happened. But right now... Right now, he just needs to see Archie safe.]
no subject
[ To be honest, the other man's appearance gives him heart. He could have simply been a good samaritan and John would have been damn grateful for his help because Archie was sort of heavy, and was clinging to him like a limpet. John didn't complain, though, just took an easier breath of air when some of the burden is pulled off of him.
Together, they make it the final stretch to the clinic, John opening and kicking the door aside. He summons his strength for the final stretch down the hall, and between he and Hornblower, he won't be surprised if Archie's feet barely drag the ground.
There are plenty of beds to be had, and John knows at least one room that's occupied, so he steers them right into an empty room. ]
Get his legs.
[ Just get him in the bed, no more fussing around. ]
no subject
I should hope I'm at least competent enough to collapse.
[The appearance of Horatio made him go nearly limp with relief, and the disaster seems much less disastrous. He's going to be fine.
But he can still lie down with naught more than a little guidance in aiming at the bed.]
no subject
[He'll get Archie to the bed then talk with this man. Whoever he is.
A doctor. That's all that matters right now.
A doctor who might have some answers as to what's going on.
And whether or not he gets answers... there's a chair by the bed, and that's where he'll be for however long he can or needs to be.
As he's continuing to try and help guide his friend, he looks at the man, giving another nod.]
Thank you. For your help and for contacting me.