simplestgift | Twenty-two bells: [WRITTEN/ACTION]

[Filtered from known villains and Grell, 100% unhackable]

[The handwriting is disguised and the picture is obscured.]

For the benefit of the new feathers: if you feel unsafe somehow in your own home, you may go to the Welcome Center and be placed in a safe house until you can get back on your feet. There does not have to be a reason. Even if you have returned from a kidnapping and do not wish to be alone, this is available to you.

[/Filter]

[Later, another written message, without the picture obscured.]

To anyone who volunteered to help build the ship:

We will begin work on Monday, at eight o'clock in the morning. We will meet at the fountain and walk from there. It'll mostly be cutting and transporting lumber at first, I'm afraid, and that includes building a cart to transport the lumber in.

Thank you,

Lt. Kennedy

[Then, written more hastily a little while later:]

If anyone has stories about Dr. McCoy, I should like to hear them.

[Today, Kennedy is stopping at the grocery store and the smithy, hoping someone with experience at the forge will be up to the challenge he has in mind.

Tonight, he is back to work at Cloud Nine, mostly waiting tables and looking fairly miserable. It's his first night of work since Dr. McCoy left, and since he dislikes the job anyway, he's not doing great at it tonight.

Before he goes home, he will stop by house 7. He will be home late.]

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[While Selphie doesn't really feel like sharing stories, she can do something. A series of doodles will appear in the journal over time including a sailboat on the high seas. She doesn't have the words to say much of anything about McCoy right now so she hopes that the doodle will suffice.]

[ buffy is sitting in the living room at seven. loose, comfy clothes. she's usually more put together than this; although, she doesn't look messy. just...tired.

she is on the floor, cross-legged. her palms are on her knees and there is a small table set up a few feet away with four rosy coloured crystals arranged into a miniature structure.

buffy summers is attempting some meditation. ]

Edited 2011-10-07 16:44 (UTC)

[Maybe it will get easier-- knowing what to say when this sort of thing happens. Horatio doubts it, though. Telling families that their men will never come home doesn't get easier, why would this?

So his offer remains, and he think of little more to do. He will be there if he is needed, whether to talk or to provide silent comfort or to pour a drink. For now, he focuses on the topic that might be able to distract Archie somewhat.]

Did you manage to hunt us up a carpenter, or shall we be simply working out of books?

[He's sure he's been told. But events keep jostling him, and he'd rather ask again than not be certain.]

Edited 2011-10-07 17:07 (UTC)

[Archie doesn't know who's drawing these, but he looks at them periodically throughout the day, and they're a welcome distraction from everything. He is quietly grateful.]

[Archie enters with a couple of take-home boxes in a plastic bag. He's about to call out, but stops when he sees Buffy looking so...concentrated.]

[Early that evening Admiral Norrington catches sight of Archie on his - James's - way to the square. The admiral is carrying a rake over his shoulder, and wears the clothing of a civilian. He quickens his step when he notices the lieutenant. Almost as though he fears the man will bolt.]

Lieutenant Kennedy! A moment of your time.

Edited 2011-10-07 17:03 (UTC)

[ her eyes are shut. her shoulders are squared. the slayer breaths slowly and regularly. searching for peace...

but one of the crystals is awfully close to slipping and causing the whole structure to tumble to the ground. ]

[Ooookay. Archie halts where he stands, and after a moment, clasps his hands behind his back.]

Yes, sir?

[Archie has absolutely no idea what that structure is, and is a little worried that it has something to do with witchcraft. Yes,yes, he knows not all witchcraft comes from devils, but it's still a bit nerve-wracking to watch.

So very helpful, he.]

[ well? it's about three steps removed from witchcraft. mystical? certainly. but not the dark arts. however -- something is clearly afoot with that crystal finally takes its fall and drags the others with it.

her regular breath seems to catch. a gasp. her palms hit the floor and become planted and her eyes snap open. ]

H-huh? [ she looks around; archie. ] O-oh. Hi.

Better than that: we have a shipwright. Very possibly a mad one; he seems to know what he's doing, but he also insists with help we can get it all done in a week and it would be fastest if it ran on cola. Cola, by the way, is the disgusting sweet bubbly stuff people drink. Sort of like making beer from treacle, except without the good part.

[But he cannot simply launch into it, heedless, clamourous. There are formalities to uphold.]

Are - ah. Are you well?

Quite well, sir, and yourself?

[... ... ...]

Mad, indeed.

Still, if he is merely a bit... touched... and it has not affected his craft, we're hardly any worse for having him. ["A week" and "Cola" are laughable, but a shipwright is not. That sort of madness, so long as it did not prove destructive, could be tolerated.]

[Whatever he just witnessed, she doesn't seem to be hurt, but he takes a few quick steps toward her anyway and kneels beside her.] Are you all right?

Hmm? Yeah. Fine. As fine as can be expected.

[ she crawls forward on her knees and gathers up the pretty little crystals. ] I can't seem to get them to stay still.

Precisely. He knew what we needed. I've yet to see if someone at the smithy can make us a couple of anchors. I hope it's in their realm.

Quite well. Indeed, quite well.

[He feels a fool in this clothes, and all the more in front of this - this boy. With the rake besides, he must look like a common laborer.]

Yet for my part I suffered little through the course of the draft.

[Yes, it's still on his mind.]

Edited 2011-10-07 17:21 (UTC)

[He sets the take-home boxes on the floor and studies the crystals.] What are they?

[He can't help but smile.]

You've thought of everything, Archie.

As did I. [No need to talk about the splinter he took to a wing. His Grave Admiralness can't be interested in that kind of thing. Admirals really never are.]

They're...meditation crystals. Giles gave them to me. Months ago. We used to use them in training, back home.

Well, we're going to need anchors, aren't we? Have to keep the damned thing in place.

What do they do?

They're supposed to help you focus. Like listening to a CD of waves crashing or drinking hot milk before bed. Calming stuff.

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