simplestgift | Thirty-One Bells: [Action/Written]

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Thirty-One Bells: [Action/Written]

[It’s been over a month since Archie Kennedy died and had his worst fears realized.

It’s been over a month since his first seizure in almost eight years.

Ever since, he has barely left the house, barely spoken to anyone. But last night, he opened the window before falling asleep. Somehow, it made all the difference.

In the prison at Ferrol, it had been a drink of water, soothing his parched mouth and throat and letting him sleep easier so he woke hungry. Eating strengthened him, and he slept even better after breakfast, waking with the strength to live the rest of the day. Little by little, small things, and most of all Horatio, had coaxed him back into health and the belief that things can be good again.

Today, it’s the sun and a light breeze waking him after a long sleep. Fresh spring air and the promise of warm light make him want to leave the house at last. So after showering, shaving, and trimming his hair, he dresses in something decidedly civilian but still native to his period and steps outside.

Anyone who sees him as he wanders the village, if they knew him before, will notice he has lost a good ten or fifteen pounds in the last month, and is pale as a ghost. Others might see how loosely his clothing fits him. Provided no one intercepts him and makes him eat first, he starts at Seventh Heaven with a hearty breakfast platter, regaining his appetite as he replenishes the nutrients in his body. Feeling much better, he heads to the barracks for some shooting practice, then his own backyard to try to get back in shape with swordplay. The drills Jack taught him are even more exhausting now than they were when he first started, but the exercise feels good for about half an hour.

After another shower and a quick library trip, by which point he has reached a somewhat manic state (he’ll be going back and forth between manic and depressive in the months to come), he walks out of the grocery store with what seems to be enough food to feed Kent (or possibly Rhode Island, if you’re American). He then spends the rest of the afternoon cooking up a Proper British Dinner on board the Britannia the way Jack Aubrey used to do. A simple message alerts his housemates, James Norrington, and, as an afterthought, Richard Sharpe, to dinner in the captain’s cabin right around four o’clock, promising wine, cider, and brandy, steak and turnip pie (but not for you, William), salmagundi, lobster, spinage toasts, a shoulder of beef, asparagus, mushroom catsup (which resembles Worcestershire sauce), a spiced steamed pudding, and peach tarts with heavy cream. The leftovers, he will take to Jack Sparrow at his house.

Boy needed a calling. This may as well be it.

After cleaning up and washing the dishes and an impromptu nap in the grass behind his house with an open book on his chest, he thinks he has finally worked up the courage to visit Jilly at House 7 and Buffy at Good Spirits and write a message to Amelia McFly to meet him somewhere. Time to come clean about some things. Telling Horatio about recent events lifted a huge weight from his chest, so maybe telling everyone else will enable him to fly.

Lastly, he writes a message to Elizabeth Swann to meet him behind house 36 and to wear something comfortable. When she arrives, there will be a campfire in the backyard, and Archie will have a bottle of whisky and makings for s’mores.

Feel free to run into him at any point during the day. Housemates can catch him in the morning and late at night as well as at dinner.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh Buffy, he loves you so much. What a darling.

"Thank you." He eyes the frilly decor, then takes a sip. "Magnificent."

"Just be glad I didn't break out the grenadine. So -- Archie. What's the what? I haven't seen you since...well, since before the Shift. And the mission."

Yes, her mission. The one he was secretly a nervous wreck about, knowing his own disastrous mission was only disastrous because of a freak bolt of lightning. He stirs his drink slowly.

"Did everything go well?"

She touched her right side. Only briefly.

"A few ribs have just now become unbruised. We were kraken-attacked."

He gives her a worried look.

"I'm all in one piece. I promise. Just a little stiff."

To prove it, he reaches out to clasp her hand briefly.

"It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back. Honestly? After all that pirating about during the Shift? I was more than a little sick and tired of playing at sailor."

She laced her fingers with his for just a moment.

"The fine first mate of the Joanna Joyce," he murmurs, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "You'd hate the Navy. No democracy at all."

Some light joking, since it wasn't nearly so simple as this: "What? And you think my organization back home is?"

He raises his glass to her point just slightly before drinking. "That's different. You're the head of it."

Teasing.

"Which is definitely where I like to be. Of course, back home? My claim is legit..."

And she didn't do much jockeying for leadership in these parts. She did what she could -- led by example, now and then. Held esteem through her actions. And kept Albert Silverberg's ear. That, perhaps, was the most important and least well known part.

"What did you get up to while I was gone, anyway?"

"Very little." Honesty. "What have you been up to since you've been back?"

"Taking it uncharacteristically easy. Catching up with friends. Which I'm still doing, now. Not patrolling as much as I'd like. We just back two nights ago, though...not slacking too much."