simplestgift | Twelve Bells: [WRITTEN/ACCIDENTAL VIDEO/ACTION] The winter of our discontent.

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Meet me this evening? I'll come by your flat to walk you to dinner. I've a surprise for you.
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It has come to my attention that every copy the library has of Richard III is missing bits of his famous speech. I've noticed it in other places as well. Romeo and Juliet is lacking the lines when she wakes up and they reunite before he remembers he took poison. All for Love is also just a bit different from what I remember. Far as I can tell, The London Merchant is whole, but quite a lot of older tragedies are missing bits and pieces. Can anyone explain this?

There's something about the fight between Tybalt and Mer

[The writing stops. A second later, the journal hits the floor, showing a lovely view of the carpet in one of the many apartments in the village. In the background, Archie's voice begins, sounding a little flustered.]

Horatio, I'll be back in a few hours. Damn, damn.

Archie? [The immediate confusion is quickly replaced with a concern that he tries to make sound less pressing than he felt it.] What is it? Where are you going?

[Archie's voice comes back, less frantic but still speaking quickly as some jangling is heard from picking up his sword.] Nothing. In trying to get you settled this week, I completely forgot to practice. I'll be out back, behind the building, wishing I was dead.

Ah, of course. The pirate. [A beat.] Shall I wait here, then?

[A pause.] I suppose two could practice.

If he'd prefer to deal with only one, I would be content to just watch. [Not that he's trying to put off the inevitable-- that sooner or later, he has to let Archie out of his sight for more than a few minutes. ...To distract from that idea, he chuckles.] Besides-- would be hard for two to practice when only one is armed. Perhaps once I have a sword again, you can teach me what he's taught you.

I don't have a lesson today, Horatio. We could stop by the weapons' shop and find you something more than suitable. [He sounds slightly wistful.]

[The thought of not yet having to deal with the pirate whose boat he borrowed? Perks him up.] I'd like that.

Very well, Mister Hornblower. I challenge you to a duel!

And, as a gentleman, I cannot refuse. I am afraid, Mr. Kennedy, that in a matter as serious as this-- [the smile on his face is betrayed by his tone] --there can, naturally, be no quarter given.

[What follows behind CH1 is two navy boys gleefully trying to chop each other up. It's more akin to horseplay than practice, but it appears that "the twins" are having fun, at least. Onlookers feel free to look on.

Later, Archie will do a little honest practice on his own in the same place.

OOC: Anyone whose character knows stuff about lit history can point out that a lot of older plays in the 18th century were rewritten just a little to update them for a "modern" audience.]

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Would've been nice to be able to avoid that, certainly.

You and I did, at least. That's something.

Only by the grace of God. [He looks up at the sky and closes his eyes... to enjoy the sun, of course. Not because he's thinking. No, certainly not. Not that he's considering that while they avoided amputation of limbs, Archie at least experienced far worse.

...Yeah, someone's mind has shifted to dark thoughts. Surprise, surprise.]

[You're thinking. He can feel it. And by thinking, he means "too much," because it's taken for granted that Horatio is always thinking. This is where Archie has to step in, as always, and break up that "thinking too much."]

Horatio?

[He clears his throat at his name, turning his head to look over at Archie. A small smile appears, and he briefly settles a hand on Archie's shoulder... just to assure himself for the thousandth time that his friend is there.

He won't share his main thought, won't say it. But there are other worries he can voice.]

Someone told me-- wrote to me-- that they think our... [The concepts are still foreign to him, difficult to understand.] worlds? times? stop when we come here.

[It's not that he minds being here. God, no. He has Archie again here. But the Hotspur and Atropos both are without a captain in his absence. His pregnant wife is without him and his pay. He cannot bring himself to simply forget his obligations.]

In a sense, they do. I think a better way of putting it is that we're returned to the same moment we're taken from. Otherwise, you couldn't come from three years after I do.

[Archie tries to be light-toned about this, but it's the topic he's most fearful of discussing with Horatio. The implications of being returned to the same time, every time. He thinks Horatio knows, but he does not want to say it if he doesn't.]

And nothing will have changed.

[In a strange way, it makes sense to Horatio. As much as anything does here. This world operates with magic. Magic that can raise the dead. Magic that their world lacks.

There's a long pause, and Horatio's voice breaks. The fact that, likely, no one can answer this question doesn't occur to him... or doesn't stop him.]

Do people remember?

[Oh gosh.]

Some do. Some don't. Some forget until they return to Luceti, and some don't remember even then. But to remember Luceti once you've been sent back...I don't think anyone does. At least not from what I hear.

[The last sentence is delivered quickly, but his voice has already broken a little.]

[Horatio squeezes Archie's shoulder lightly, taking a thin breath in. He tries to smile, but it can't hold.]

I'm not sure if that's a cruelty or a kindness.

[Archie turns his face away, taking a deep breath and letting it out.]

I wanted so badly for you to come that I didn't think what you might want.

[Here, though, Horatio's tone doesn't lighten. He's still quite serious. But the melancholy has lifted.]

I left obligations in England, a great many of them that are most pressing.

[A pause. A man as duty-bound as Captain Hornblower has a hard time admitting this.]

But I find myself unhurried to get back to them.

[He finally turns to properly look at Archie.]

[Archie turns around to look at him at almost the same instant. What passes in that glance communicates more than he can explain in words--that he's relieved, that he finally feels like Luceti is home, that he's no longer unraveling at the same time as he's trying to weave himself a new life. This, right here, is the most complete he's felt since he can remember, far from the tyranny of the navy, surrounded by dear friends and with his blood brother at his side.]

[Horatio has to smile. Whatever worries he might have about England and William Bush and the Hotspur and the Atropos and Maria... None of them matter. At least not in this instant. He has Archie back. His dearest friend, and a man who may as well be kin for as close as Horatio feels to him. The guilt will return another day; he knows it. But for now... He can smile.]

[Horatio's smile spreads to Archie as if he's the other half of it. After a moment, his hand comes up to clasp Horatio on the shoulder firmly.]

Twelve Bells: [WRITTEN/ACCIDENTAL VIDEO/ACTION] The winter of our discontent.

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