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

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Thirty-Six Bells: [Written/Action]

[Written:]

In light of my new duties as first lieutenant of the LES Britannia, impending matrimony, and being bloody terrible at running a foodhouse, I shall soon retire as the owner of Cloud Nine. I'd like to continue to work a few shifts, of course, but the club will need new management. Which brave soul will shoulder the task?

-A. Kennedy

[Action only: He is enjoying the last night of the voyage, simply meditating upon the lovely roll of the ship beneath him. It's chilly out, and he can see his breath, but he doesn't mind, wrapped up tightly in his heavy wool greatcoat. Softly he sings a song swallowed by the night, evidenced mainly by the mist of it in the air around his lips.]

The maiden, oh, the maiden oh.
The sailor loves the maiden, oh!
So early in the morning,
The sailor loves the maiden, oh!
A maid that is young,
A maid that is fair,
A maid that is kind and pleasant, oh,
So early in the morning,
The sailor loves the maiden, oh!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I might, except I got lectured recently about how trying to avoid the people who care about you when something's wrong doesn't actually help things.

[Or something similar. It's close enough.]

What's going on?

[There's a long pause.]

I'm...not a whole man, Amelia, not emotionally. There are entire parts of me taken out and replaced with other things. I don't think I want Elizabeth chained to that. Sometimes I go into some horrible melancholy and nothing in the world can get me out of it. I don't want her to be worn down.

[Amelia doesn't fully understand, but she also doesn't think it'd be right to ask for details. So she listens, and doesn't reply at first, turning it over in her head.]

You've told her about this, right?

Yes.

Then isn't it her choice to make?

I also told Dawn, back when she was here. Didn't keep me from hurting her.

I never met Dawn, so I can't say anything about her. But doesn't everyone hurt the people they care about sometimes anyway?

...I suppose they do, at that.

So if you really want to be together, you'll work through it. That's how it's supposed to go anyway, right?

It is.

[He doesn't sound convinced, but perhaps somewhat comforted.]

Just be glad you don't break out into hives whenever someone touches you.

[Said as a joke.]

[And it gets a rather weak smile.] I do have that, yes.

[Well, it's progress.]

So what other songs do you know?

A good many. Not all of which would be well-received by present company.

So pick one that isn't going to make me want to punch you.

[A small chuckle.]

And ye shall walk in silk attire,
And siller ha'e to spare,
Gin ye'll consent to be his bride;
Nor think o' Donald mair.
Oh! wha wad buy a silken gown,
Wi' a poor broken heart?
Or what's to me a siller crown,
Gin frae my love I part.
And ye shall walk in silk attire
And siller ha'e to spare,
Gin ye'll consent to be his bride,
Nor think o' Donald mair.

[It's catchy, even if Amelia doesn't quite understand all the words. She picks up the tune easily enough, and by the end, even hums along.]

I wouldna walk in silk attire,
Nor braid wi' gems my hair.
Gin he whose faith is pledge wi' mine.
Were wrang'd and grieving sair.
Frae infancy he lo'ed me still.
And still my heart shall prove.
How weel it can those vows fulfill,
Which first repaid is love.
I wouldna walk in silk attire,
Nor braid wi' gems my hair.
Gin he whose faith is pledge wi' mine.
Were wrang'd and grieving sair.

[The clear, if not quite steady, tenor rides a ritardando to a halt at the end.]

[The end trips her up somewhat, if only because she doesn't expect the slowed tempo. For the most part though, she keeps up pretty well.

When she's sure Archie is finished, she looks to him.]

What's the song about?

It's about choosing love over riches. Just a little song I learnt in my childhood.

[Amelia nods slightly, then after a moment, begins to softly sing a song from her world.]

So... On the first celestial evening,
a pebble from somewhere drops upon the world.

So... On the second celestial evening,
all the children of the pebble hold hands and compose a waltz.
Sound life.
Sound life.

So... On the third celestial evening,
the children of the waltz make waves upon the world.

So... On the fourth celestial evening,
all the children of the waves splash on the shore.
Sound life.
Sound life.

[Archie listens but does not join in, enraptured.]

That's beautiful.

[Amelia looks a bit surprised to hear it, but then again, she doesn't sing often at all.]

Thanks.

Want to hear the rest of it?

Yes, please.

[She nods, then pauses for a second to remember what day she's on.]

So... On the fifth celestial evening,
the world is struck by those fragments again and again.

So... On the sixith celestial evening,
by the signal, the travellers are brought together.
Sound life.
Sound life.

So... On the seventh celestial evening,
the ship braces through the sky.

So... On the eighth celestial morning,
a song from somewhere reaches my ears.
Sound life.
Sound life.

Then... Beyond the brand new sky,
everything the song recorded echoes up in harmony.
Sound life.
Sound life.

Thirty-Six Bells: [Written/Action]

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