Archie Kennedy (
simplestgift) wrote2012-04-23 06:00 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Entry tags:
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.]
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.]
[action]
[He's swiftly feeling less and less like he needs to justify himself to her.]
Re: [action]
[That doesn't stop Amelia's questions.]
They put you in the stupid pants. And even if they didn't give you the book, you were still sneaking around when I found you. You said you didn't want people to know, and--damn it, I kept my mouth shut!
[action]
[Finally snapping here. Being treated this way is triggering all kinds of things.]
Re: [action]
Even if you killed yourself again trying to keep it from him?! Bad enough that you died, but you could've made him watch you die from some illness or something! Do you have any idea what that's like? Do you?!
[action]
[The shout echoes over the rocks while Archie, numb with shock at his own explosion, listens to the rebound confirm what he just said.]
Re: [action] 1/3
Re: [action]
Re: [action]
Then that gives you even less of an excuse.
[action]
I was looking for clothes.
Re: [action]
[That's the only warning he'll get. Amelia won't stop with one punch next time, and she knows it.]
You died. No one--[She swallows, hard.]--no one can change that.
But whatever ideas were in your head, you could've made it worse. Maybe pushed yourself until you had to be in the hospital with everyone watching over you again. Or maybe they'd have just found your body.
What would the point be then? Everything you wanted to do wouldn't have made a damn bit of difference.
[action]
[He's shaking slightly.]
Amelia, when I died back home, it changed him. A-around Christmas, letters arrived. Things he'd written me after I'd died, and when he saw them...I-I couldn't see him go cold again like that. And it wasn't as if I could've gotten to the village sooner than I did.
Re: [action]
[And it had scared her. Even without all of this, it scared her to see, and she crosses her arms over her stomach without quite realizing she's doing it.]
I get what you were trying to do. My mom, she...she smiled. When our house was being robbed, and when she was sick. She smiled for me. So I get it.
But it doesn't matter if you don't take care of yourself too. If you'd told me, I could've helped. Really helped, instead of just--running my mouth without a clue.
[action]
You were hardly encouraging me to trust you with it.
Re: [action]
I thought you'd been taken for an experiment. And besides that, I agreed not to tell one of my best friends that I'd found you. What else was I supposed to do? Break down in tears?
[action]
Re: [action]
Besides, I also made you get inside, got you coffee and blankets, and would've--[Amelia cringes, remembering her internal debate over sharing a blanket to give Archie the extra body heat.]--gotten closer to you if you hadn't stopped shivering.
[action]
Don't think I'm ungrateful, but does it give you the excuse to sock me in the face?
[Stretching his jaw a bit. It's going to leave a bruise.]
Re: [action]
[Words that may have come out a bit too matter-of-factly, but it's the truth.
But then he looks away, and Amelia presses her lips together in a tight line. She has those memories too.]
You just told me you died.
[action]
Re: [action]
[action]
Re: [action]
Idiot. I'm mad because you died.
[action]
Lightning struck. I wasn't the only one who fell.
Re: [action]
I'm sorry.
[action]
Nothing you could've done.
Re: [action]
[action]
Re: [action]
[action]
Re: [action]
[action]
Re: [action]
[action]
Re: [action]
[action]
Re: [action]
[action]
Re: [action]
[action]
Re: [action]
[action]
Re: [action]