Entry tags:
OOC: Luceti Appointments
Appointments and messages for Luceti. Please title, tag, and date appropriately.
Entry tags:
OOC: How's My Driving?
Am I playing Archie well? Am I playing Archie crappily? How badly do you want to give me ice cream? These are the vital questions to be answered in the comments. Anon comments are enabled.
Entry tags:
Thirty-Eight Bells: [Written/Action]
Elizabeth Swann has gone home.
[That's pretty much all he can manage. People needed to know. He won't answer any messages until very late tonight. In the meantime, he is pretty much going to wall himself up in his house. Not in his room, though. His room still smells like her.
He found her wedding ring. It was lying on her night stand yesterday morning when he first woke to find her gone.
All things considered...he's not doing as badly as he might be. At least, he's convincing himself of that. Trying to. They always knew this was a probability, after all.
But that didn't make much of a difference in the end, did it?]
[That's pretty much all he can manage. People needed to know. He won't answer any messages until very late tonight. In the meantime, he is pretty much going to wall himself up in his house. Not in his room, though. His room still smells like her.
He found her wedding ring. It was lying on her night stand yesterday morning when he first woke to find her gone.
All things considered...he's not doing as badly as he might be. At least, he's convincing himself of that. Trying to. They always knew this was a probability, after all.
But that didn't make much of a difference in the end, did it?]
Thirty-Seven Bells: [Voice/Written/Action]
[Last he knew, Archie Kennedy was lying in his cot on board His Majesty's Frigate Lydia, in the surgeon's cabin. No one really remembers falling asleep, do they? But when he was falling asleep, he was very warm. It's the cold that wakes him.
When he opens his eyes, he's lying in a bed of grass. Overhead is a pale blue sky, and November bites the air.
He's back. After more than three years, he's back.
He sits up, shivering, and looks over his shoulder. The wings are there again. He's had a good long break from them, but there's something that is both thrilling and horrifying about their existence. Beside him, folded nicely, are civilian clothes, on top of which lies his journal. He dresses quickly, but only so he can stop shivering before his shaking hands open the journal. He speaks with a stammering quickness, voice unsteady.]
This is...M-Mr. Kennedy. [Using his real name in front of everyone has come to feel very wrong.] I've come back. I've come back, and it's been three years. How long has it been here? Who is still here? Elizabeth?
[He'll wind up both at house 36 and house 7, desperate to see sorely-missed faces. Later, much calmer, he makes another announcement, this one writen.]
It has come to my attention that it is November already. On December the First, beginning at four o'clock PM, as happened one year ago in Luceti, there will be a Christmas ball and feast. I will require help with the food, setting up, and cleaning after. Anyone wishing to attend may do so, so long as they are properly dressed. This year it shall be held in the Battle Dome.
[OOC: Archie is returning from his mallynap believing he went home for three and a half years, somehow alive and with memories of Luceti. He looks no older, but he's definitely thinner and his hair is no longer than shoulder-length now, so he does look somewhat different. Have fun.]
When he opens his eyes, he's lying in a bed of grass. Overhead is a pale blue sky, and November bites the air.
He's back. After more than three years, he's back.
He sits up, shivering, and looks over his shoulder. The wings are there again. He's had a good long break from them, but there's something that is both thrilling and horrifying about their existence. Beside him, folded nicely, are civilian clothes, on top of which lies his journal. He dresses quickly, but only so he can stop shivering before his shaking hands open the journal. He speaks with a stammering quickness, voice unsteady.]
This is...M-Mr. Kennedy. [Using his real name in front of everyone has come to feel very wrong.] I've come back. I've come back, and it's been three years. How long has it been here? Who is still here? Elizabeth?
[He'll wind up both at house 36 and house 7, desperate to see sorely-missed faces. Later, much calmer, he makes another announcement, this one writen.]
It has come to my attention that it is November already. On December the First, beginning at four o'clock PM, as happened one year ago in Luceti, there will be a Christmas ball and feast. I will require help with the food, setting up, and cleaning after. Anyone wishing to attend may do so, so long as they are properly dressed. This year it shall be held in the Battle Dome.
[OOC: Archie is returning from his mallynap believing he went home for three and a half years, somehow alive and with memories of Luceti. He looks no older, but he's definitely thinner and his hair is no longer than shoulder-length now, so he does look somewhat different. Have fun.]
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!
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!
Entry tags:
Thirty-Five Bells: [Voice/Action]
[Archie is going to head into All Passions today, in desperate need of a dress uniform. When things are slow at work tonight, he'll speak a message.]
Is there anyone in the village who could perform a wedding? A priest or other official? I'm...getting married.
[He sounds a tad stunned about it, too. Even if it's been over a month since this was decided.]
Is there anyone in the village who could perform a wedding? A priest or other official? I'm...getting married.
[He sounds a tad stunned about it, too. Even if it's been over a month since this was decided.]
Entry tags:
Thirty-Four Bells: [Voice]
Perhaps the message from my superior was too subtle, but he would like to open the Britannia to anyone who would rather be away from the village if the threat the Malnosso have given should come to fruition. He would like you to work, as we are short of crew, but work could mean practically anything from cooking to needlework to carrying buckets to hoisting, anything you can think of. You needn't sign up as part of the crew. We do have at least one cannon to provide some defense.
We sail tomorrow. Any who wish to come aboard should be there by eight o'clock in the morning with whatever belongings you wish. There is more than enough room.
[In other words, they're offering to take refugees.]
We sail tomorrow. Any who wish to come aboard should be there by eight o'clock in the morning with whatever belongings you wish. There is more than enough room.
[In other words, they're offering to take refugees.]
Entry tags:
Thirty-Three Bells: EVENT [Action/Written]
[In the morning, a boy luxuriates on the grass, turning the pages of a book at a rapid-fire rate, devouring it like a piece of birthday cake.
After the noon hour, he’s on the mountain near the bath house, listening for Kipinn.
Around three o’clock, he’s at the docks, in your boat, pretending to have adventures. He can’t make it as far out as the Britannia, unfortunately, because he’s too small to sail the quarterboat out by himself. He still casts some longing looks at it.
In the evening, he suddenly learns what day it is. That’s enough to deflate him some. Solemnly, he speaks over his journal, huddled on the couch in house 36.]
I’m nine years old today.
[Actually he’s twenty-seven, but don’t tell him that. It’s a little depressing to be away from everyone you love on your birthday. Still, he’s Archie, and Archie can (almost) always cheer up.]
After the noon hour, he’s on the mountain near the bath house, listening for Kipinn.
Around three o’clock, he’s at the docks, in your boat, pretending to have adventures. He can’t make it as far out as the Britannia, unfortunately, because he’s too small to sail the quarterboat out by himself. He still casts some longing looks at it.
In the evening, he suddenly learns what day it is. That’s enough to deflate him some. Solemnly, he speaks over his journal, huddled on the couch in house 36.]
I’m nine years old today.
[Actually he’s twenty-seven, but don’t tell him that. It’s a little depressing to be away from everyone you love on your birthday. Still, he’s Archie, and Archie can (almost) always cheer up.]
Thirty-Two Bells: [Voice/Action]
[A man clearing his throat.]
This is Mr. Kennedy. Ginia...Miss Ginia Solana has gone home, as you know, and left me the club. Now she’s gone, musicians on our schedule are a bit scarce. I could also use a waiter or two. Or three, I wouldn’t mind, especially if they could help at the bar on busy nights, or nights when I am gone. [A pause, then his tone goes falsely cheerful as if he’s impatient with his own awkward long-windedness.] In short, for which I am clearly untalented, if any of you possess a musical skill, I should be very glad to have you perform here. There’s nothing quite like music to lift a spirit, and Cloud Nine is the one place in the village which has it regularly. We should all be grateful to hear yours.
And I know waiting on tables is scarcely anyone’s ideal way to spend his or her evening, but it could be worse. Exchanging idleness for music usually turns out in one’s favor. I’ll be happy for the help. I did begin as a waiter myself.
Now I’d like to address the sailors and would-be sailors of the village. The Britannia has lost a few of her crew—sent home—and I know there are sailors here who’ve not spoken up. I’d like to know why, that I might dispel any concerns. We’re not asking for exclusivity, if that’s the trouble, and it’s been made clear time and time again that we are not a military vessel. If there are any doubts, it is better to ask. Even if you’re not a sailor, you’re welcome aboard. Thank you for your time. We set sail in May.
[Filtered 86% to Nami]
I’d like to ask you especially, Miss Nami. Your skills and experience are second to none here, and we would be honored to have you.
[He’ll spend the daylight hours wandering the woods and all over town, keeping an eye out for a certain young midshipman the rogue Malnosso took. At one point, he’ll head to the smithy to see Hiccup and Sokka. In the evening, he’ll be working the bar and kitchen at Cloud Nine, and bringing food to tables when he must.]
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.]
Thirty Bells: [Action/Written]
[Archie Kennedy opens his eyes with his back against something hard, his wings spread out over solidness even as he grows aware of the prickle of grass underneath him. He is curled up on his side, wearing new feather trousers and shivering horribly. He hugs himself for warmth, and movement brings the rain to his attention. He is soaked.
My God, what did I lose? His hand grasps for the St. Michael pendant Horatio gave him for his birthday last year, only to find empty air.
He left it at home.
His wings twitch, and he twists to find himself pressed against a tall rock, probably near one of the lakes. His disorientation in full swing, he doesn’t even bother to try to figure out which lake it is. He sits up, waits for the world to stop whirling, and takes a shaky, hasty inventory.
Arms and legs. Nose and ears and eyes. Touch, taste, smell, sight, hearing. Ten fingers, ten toes, a wild mass of blond hair unbound and sticking to his damp neck and forehead.
What did he lose?
Still trembling, he curls against the rock and tries breathing for a bit.
Memories, maybe? Any holes in his memory? How is he to know?
Horatio. He remembers Horatio, thank God. Buffy, Jilly, Jack, Leonard, Elizabeth. Father is Finley Kennedy, mother is Elspeth, siblings Finley, Neil, and Abigail. His grandfather pushed him into the Navy. His first ship was the Swiftsure. Is everything important there?
Off on a mission, and now he's back as if he'd never left. Nothing hurts. The only pain now is in finding out what he paid to come back to life. And in telling…
No. He is not going to tell Horatio about another instance where he wasn’t able to protect him, especially from death. He can’t call for help, because anyone who finds him in this state will know, and no one can know.
His wings shiver, shaking off water, then wrap around his body as well as they can. He’s always so inclined to forget they exist, but they do help to stave off the rain and warm him a little. Then, weakly, his knees threatening to buckle under him, he stands up. It’s a long walk home, and he has to make it alone.
The next two hours pass in a haze as he finds the road and follows it, limiting himself to two thoughts every quarter-hour if he can help it. After a while, he doesn’t feel especially cold anymore, which he vaguely knows from his first appearance in Luceti is a bad sign. Sheltering in the tree village won’t help him get dry when he’s already soaked, so he continues at the quickest pace he can manage. It’d be even worse to die of hypothermia just after coming back from the dead.
In the village, he steals quietly toward the clothes shop, shivering hard and pale as a ghost.
It’s going to have to be a matter of putting on the face again. No one can suspect something is wrong. Those who aren’t scornful will be compassionate, and he doesn’t think he can take compassion right now.
The door to house 36 opens very, very quietly, and the lieutenant slips inside as if he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s there. As quickly as he can, he’ll find the St. Michael pendant and slip it on.
It takes some time, but in the evening, over a cup of tea in the tea shop, he writes on the journals, shortly:]
I’m back from my mission.
-AK
[At night, he goes out for a drink. He doesn't make it to Good Spirits.]
[OOC: First chronological tag goes to Amelia, last to John Watson.]
My God, what did I lose? His hand grasps for the St. Michael pendant Horatio gave him for his birthday last year, only to find empty air.
He left it at home.
His wings twitch, and he twists to find himself pressed against a tall rock, probably near one of the lakes. His disorientation in full swing, he doesn’t even bother to try to figure out which lake it is. He sits up, waits for the world to stop whirling, and takes a shaky, hasty inventory.
Arms and legs. Nose and ears and eyes. Touch, taste, smell, sight, hearing. Ten fingers, ten toes, a wild mass of blond hair unbound and sticking to his damp neck and forehead.
What did he lose?
Still trembling, he curls against the rock and tries breathing for a bit.
Memories, maybe? Any holes in his memory? How is he to know?
Horatio. He remembers Horatio, thank God. Buffy, Jilly, Jack, Leonard, Elizabeth. Father is Finley Kennedy, mother is Elspeth, siblings Finley, Neil, and Abigail. His grandfather pushed him into the Navy. His first ship was the Swiftsure. Is everything important there?
Off on a mission, and now he's back as if he'd never left. Nothing hurts. The only pain now is in finding out what he paid to come back to life. And in telling…
No. He is not going to tell Horatio about another instance where he wasn’t able to protect him, especially from death. He can’t call for help, because anyone who finds him in this state will know, and no one can know.
His wings shiver, shaking off water, then wrap around his body as well as they can. He’s always so inclined to forget they exist, but they do help to stave off the rain and warm him a little. Then, weakly, his knees threatening to buckle under him, he stands up. It’s a long walk home, and he has to make it alone.
The next two hours pass in a haze as he finds the road and follows it, limiting himself to two thoughts every quarter-hour if he can help it. After a while, he doesn’t feel especially cold anymore, which he vaguely knows from his first appearance in Luceti is a bad sign. Sheltering in the tree village won’t help him get dry when he’s already soaked, so he continues at the quickest pace he can manage. It’d be even worse to die of hypothermia just after coming back from the dead.
In the village, he steals quietly toward the clothes shop, shivering hard and pale as a ghost.
It’s going to have to be a matter of putting on the face again. No one can suspect something is wrong. Those who aren’t scornful will be compassionate, and he doesn’t think he can take compassion right now.
The door to house 36 opens very, very quietly, and the lieutenant slips inside as if he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s there. As quickly as he can, he’ll find the St. Michael pendant and slip it on.
It takes some time, but in the evening, over a cup of tea in the tea shop, he writes on the journals, shortly:]
I’m back from my mission.
-AK
[At night, he goes out for a drink. He doesn't make it to Good Spirits.]
[OOC: First chronological tag goes to Amelia, last to John Watson.]
Entry tags:
Twenty-Nine Bells: [Action/Voice/Written] FORWARD-DATED to the 19th and 20th
[Today, Archie is on the beach. He has a couple of homemade instruments with him that might look odd to someone who isn’t a sailor—a quadrant and a sextant. He also has a gigantic container, the type one might bring on picnics with lots of family, with some drink or another inside. Spread out on the dock is a tattered blanket, two large books lying open, and scattered forgotten foodstuffs and folded blankets. The one object which never leaves his hand is a watch.
Anyone with any sailing experience would see, when he’s using the tools, that he’s determining the sun’s altitude at varying times of the day, probably as a way to check his current latitude. He’s especially focused when the sun is at its zenith. He jots down observations and calculations in a small notebook.
Usually an experienced lieutenant wouldn’t sweat this much over a routine, but Kennedy always did this as little as he could even back home after moving from the midshipmen’s berth to the ward room, and hasn’t done it since coming to Luceti over a year ago. As the Britannia’s undisputed first lieutenant, however, he is suddenly worried he won’t be able to do this at all after so little practice. Therefore, he has to prove he can do this, as much as he hates it. Always he checks his watch, measuring the time throughout the day and night. This is why he brought so much coffee.
At around six in the evening, when he’s finished plotting his position upon the planet or given up on it, he’ll send out a spoken message.]
[To Elizabeth Swann; filtered 78%]
Elizabeth? The sun is about to set. Would you like to meet me at the docks?
[The next morning, he jots down his findings on the journal network. First is a set of numbers schoolkids and navigators could recognize as latitude and longitude. Then:]
A solar day here is the same length as one on Earth. On the other hand, our position doesn’t correspond with anything that would make sense on Earth. At least, not to my reckoning. I plotted it while standing on the beach, where there used to be a desert till it was flooded. Nevertheless, aren’t all planets possessing of different solar and lunar days? Why should this one correspond exactly with the one I’m from?
Have I done something wrong?
Besides assume the existence of Greenwich upon this planet, of course. Perhaps Luceti should be reckoned the prime meridian when we make further observations about the longitude of other locations?
[There is no way to determine whether or not the Barrier provides too much refraction of light for the measurements to be accurate, either--something he hasn't really considered, even though he's plenty aware of the phenomenon.]
Twenty-Eight Bells: [VOICE/ACTION(ish)]
[It's around ten or eleven at night when the transmission begins. Two voices, Kennedy and Bush, are sounding decidedly sloshed. They are, in fact, sitting at the bar in Good Spirits, because how often do you get to introduce someone to Romulan ale twice and see their reaction the second time like it had never happened before? Only if said person went home and came back and doesn't remember the first time. Due to this, Kennedy sounds considerably more sober.]
Your attention, everyone. Mr. Bush has something he would like to say.
Yes, yes I would.....What was it again Kennededy?
Begin with "my profoundest apologies." And-and end with...with the hair thing.
Ah! Right, right. *ahem* My sensherest apologies to the ladies of Lusheti....I like all of you and your is - hair - is very pretty.
Nunno, William, it's...the envy bit, that was nice. Do add that in.
I envy all of your hair.
And how silly a man are you?
Extremely, Kennedy. Siller man there ever was.
Now recite an appropriate verse.
Help me think of one.
What about, "O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!"
It is.
And...why is that, Mr. Bush?
Hm?
Why is it a woeful, woeful, woeful day?
This isn't England and there's no naaavy. Missthenavy.
And...that's the only reason you insulted the crew, isn't it? Just want things to be like they are at home?
Mmhm.
...Do you need a bucket to vomit into?
Please.
[OOC: This is a joint post with
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wouldntbetonit]Twenty-Seven Bells: [ACTION/VOICE]
( Cut for introspection. )
[Today, Archie goes to the smithy to ask a favor of its weapon smiths (OOC: dibs go to Hiccup Haddock). In the evening, he brings home a bottle of Madeira and a ham to cook before work. Tonight, he'll be working the bar and tables at Cloud Nine.
Eventually, he speaks over the journals, tone light and warm but professional.]
This is Mr. Kennedy.
Any member of the crew of the Britannia is welcome to come with me to tour the ship in the morning. She's quite a handsome woman and I'd very much like you to meet her.
For those who've not yet heard, Britannia is a sixth-rate man of war with the capacity for twenty-two guns, but no actual guns. She carries enough sail to cover her namesake, so she's fast, and nimble as Jack jumping over a candlestick. Winter isn't the best time for sailing, but once things warm up, Captain Hornblower will be taking her out on her maiden voyage. As his first leff--first mate, I'm responsible for hiring the crew, so do speak with me and not with him if you wish to join.
[A pause. Then, he speaks very softly, with many sentiments wrapped up into two words:]
Thank you.
Twenty-Six Bells: [Action] Forward-dated to December 20th
[Archie spends the first half of the day moving new furniture—stool and chairs, mostly—to the Britannia. Something about getting stuck in your own ship and having to burn the furniture for warmth in the galley stove makes one run out of furniture. While he’s in the store, he finds an item that delights him—a wooden box with Horatio’s name engraved on a brass plate on the lid. He’ll happily take that home, yes.
It’s less than a week till Christmas, so he’s going to clear the snow off the front porch of house 36 and sit outside to try to make a wreath out of hemlock and holly sprigs. It is not going well. He’s unaware of the mistletoe overhead.
In regards to his find in the store, curiosity will get the better of him before Horatio returns home. What is in that box?
He finds out. It’s not pretty.]
( Not pretty at all. )
It’s less than a week till Christmas, so he’s going to clear the snow off the front porch of house 36 and sit outside to try to make a wreath out of hemlock and holly sprigs. It is not going well. He’s unaware of the mistletoe overhead.
In regards to his find in the store, curiosity will get the better of him before Horatio returns home. What is in that box?
He finds out. It’s not pretty.]
( Not pretty at all. )
Twenty-five Bells: [Written/Action] Night of the 24th and morning of the 25th.
[The night is chill and quiet, and Midshipman Archie Kennedy falls asleep hoping never to leave this place.]
( Cut for introspection. )
[Before bed, he writes in the journal. He does not sign his name, but the camera catches a soft smile on his face as if a weight has been lifted.]
If I am silent, let it be because I do not wish to speak and not because I am afraid to be heard.
( More introspection. )
[After cooking an unnecessarily fancy breakfast for himself and his housemate, he writes again on the journal network, in his happy delirium forgetting to stay anonymous.]
It appears I have come up a bit short lately, but welcome to all new feathers. You should be told that if ever you feel unsafe in your own home for any reason whatever, you may speak with someone at the Welcome Center and you will be placed in a safe home for as long as you need.
Moreover, it is a bit late in coming, but those of us more accustomed to 'old world' traditions will be hosting a Christmas feast and ball on December the First. Ungodly early, of course, but we did not wish to compete with the new feather season round Twelfth Night. All are welcome to attend, but we ask you arrive in full dress--formal clothing. Anyone willing to volunteer to help with cooking, decorating, or music would be most welcome.
[After realizing his mistake and fretting for a bit that he wasn't anonymous for the first announcement, Archie will be knocking on the doors of house 7 and the beach house for some unannounced visits. Catch him in between if you like.
OOC note: Any IC questions about the ball that have been answered OOCly can be handwaved if you prefer.]
( Cut for introspection. )
[Before bed, he writes in the journal. He does not sign his name, but the camera catches a soft smile on his face as if a weight has been lifted.]
If I am silent, let it be because I do not wish to speak and not because I am afraid to be heard.
( More introspection. )
[After cooking an unnecessarily fancy breakfast for himself and his housemate, he writes again on the journal network, in his happy delirium forgetting to stay anonymous.]
It appears I have come up a bit short lately, but welcome to all new feathers. You should be told that if ever you feel unsafe in your own home for any reason whatever, you may speak with someone at the Welcome Center and you will be placed in a safe home for as long as you need.
Moreover, it is a bit late in coming, but those of us more accustomed to 'old world' traditions will be hosting a Christmas feast and ball on December the First. Ungodly early, of course, but we did not wish to compete with the new feather season round Twelfth Night. All are welcome to attend, but we ask you arrive in full dress--formal clothing. Anyone willing to volunteer to help with cooking, decorating, or music would be most welcome.
[After realizing his mistake and fretting for a bit that he wasn't anonymous for the first announcement, Archie will be knocking on the doors of house 7 and the beach house for some unannounced visits. Catch him in between if you like.
OOC note: Any IC questions about the ball that have been answered OOCly can be handwaved if you prefer.]
Twenty-four bells: [Action]
[Luceti. Even the name is beautiful.
It's quiet here, but not silent. No cannonfire, no stomping feet or shouting men. No bars or guards or grey stone walls. Everything is lovely and serene and everyone is pleasant. Well. Nearly everyone, but that's okay.
In Hornblower's company, Kennedy stops by the bakery and selects, for some reason, cheesecake. He's never had it--not that he can remember, at least--and it is absolutely the most beautiful thing he can imagine. Chocolate cheesecake, smooth and rich and flavorful with a drizzle of raspberry syrup. He tastes it and doesn't just eat it.
They visit the tea shop and he is floored. They visit the clothing shop and he finds a new linen shirt, already made. They visit the library and...
And...
O the glory of the library. It's as if this town was created for his rehabilitation.
Hours are spent in the library until he learns he can take books out. Even then, he very nearly doesn't leave.
On the way home, he asks to be alone for a moment. When given the chance, he walks the woods close to the village. At twilight, he sits at the fountain, staring into space with utter blankness because he knows the pleasantness of this day is going to end.
He doesn't realize it when the moon rises and he's still sitting alone in its pale light.
OOC: Kennedy's replies will come from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
babymid_archie. Meet him absolutely anywhere during the day or at night. Depending on when and where, Horatio will tag in as well, so remember to specify when/where in your tag. Share his rapture or cheer him up. Possible triggers--character is hella post-traumatic.]
It's quiet here, but not silent. No cannonfire, no stomping feet or shouting men. No bars or guards or grey stone walls. Everything is lovely and serene and everyone is pleasant. Well. Nearly everyone, but that's okay.
In Hornblower's company, Kennedy stops by the bakery and selects, for some reason, cheesecake. He's never had it--not that he can remember, at least--and it is absolutely the most beautiful thing he can imagine. Chocolate cheesecake, smooth and rich and flavorful with a drizzle of raspberry syrup. He tastes it and doesn't just eat it.
They visit the tea shop and he is floored. They visit the clothing shop and he finds a new linen shirt, already made. They visit the library and...
And...
O the glory of the library. It's as if this town was created for his rehabilitation.
Hours are spent in the library until he learns he can take books out. Even then, he very nearly doesn't leave.
On the way home, he asks to be alone for a moment. When given the chance, he walks the woods close to the village. At twilight, he sits at the fountain, staring into space with utter blankness because he knows the pleasantness of this day is going to end.
He doesn't realize it when the moon rises and he's still sitting alone in its pale light.
OOC: Kennedy's replies will come from
babymid_archie. Meet him absolutely anywhere during the day or at night. Depending on when and where, Horatio will tag in as well, so remember to specify when/where in your tag. Share his rapture or cheer him up. Possible triggers--character is hella post-traumatic.]Entry tags:
Twenty-three bells: [WRITTEN/ACTION]
This is Mr. Kennedy. The Britannia, Luceti's new sloop of war under command of Captain Hornblower, is finished and for all purposes ready to sail. Unfortunately, as she cannot sail herself, Captain Hornblower is in need of a crew.
Not many are required simply to sail her. A half dozen at least, although we should prefer more. We do not expect exclusivity--in Luceti, there is no point. If you are already part of another crew, you are welcome to remain a part of that crew and sail with us as well. As the winter months are approaching, we are not likely to weigh anchor for some time, so there will be plenty of time to train recruits who have no sailing experience.
Thank you, and I look forward to any questions you may have.
-A. Kennedy
[He's using the "Lt." less and less nowadays in his signature.
Tonight he'll be working at Cloud Nine. He'll be home late.]
Not many are required simply to sail her. A half dozen at least, although we should prefer more. We do not expect exclusivity--in Luceti, there is no point. If you are already part of another crew, you are welcome to remain a part of that crew and sail with us as well. As the winter months are approaching, we are not likely to weigh anchor for some time, so there will be plenty of time to train recruits who have no sailing experience.
Thank you, and I look forward to any questions you may have.
-A. Kennedy
[He's using the "Lt." less and less nowadays in his signature.
Tonight he'll be working at Cloud Nine. He'll be home late.]
Entry tags:
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.]
[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.]
Entry tags:
Twenty-one Bells: [ACTION/VOICE]
[Archie has barely been around town lately, but he does appear in town this afternoon, dashing about to various shops and stores and picking up various one-use items and lots and lots of groceries. He seems to have one thing on his mind.
Later, he'll sit at the fountain and send out the voice message:]
This is Mr. Kennedy. If anyone is in need of me, I shall be at the beach house for most of the week. You can reach me there or on the journals.
Moreover, Mr. Hornblower and I are wondering if anyone would be interested in helping to build a ship. A sloop-of-war, to be specific, with room and ports enough for eighteen or twenty-two guns. I cannot claim we have a practical use for itm besides exploration, but it would be something to do. We have the plans drawn up, and all we need is enough hands to make it possible. We would be grateful for any help at all.
[After this, he'll be walking back to the beach house, where he's been babysitting Jack Sparrow since yesterday.]
Later, he'll sit at the fountain and send out the voice message:]
This is Mr. Kennedy. If anyone is in need of me, I shall be at the beach house for most of the week. You can reach me there or on the journals.
Moreover, Mr. Hornblower and I are wondering if anyone would be interested in helping to build a ship. A sloop-of-war, to be specific, with room and ports enough for eighteen or twenty-two guns. I cannot claim we have a practical use for itm besides exploration, but it would be something to do. We have the plans drawn up, and all we need is enough hands to make it possible. We would be grateful for any help at all.
[After this, he'll be walking back to the beach house, where he's been babysitting Jack Sparrow since yesterday.]