Archie Kennedy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
betteralready) wrote2017-08-18 08:28 pm
betteralready) wrote2017-08-18 08:28 pm
Entry tags:
when danger approaches, sing to it } stowaway 'verse
He hates this ship.
He hates that he hates this ship-- Hates that yet another hope has been dashed by the Navy and its apparent tendency towards letting terrible men into power over good ones. Hates that he could've had a chance for a step up, but instead finds himself back almost at the beginning again.
Only almost, though. He's older, now; better able to handle the hurts that this kind of atmosphere settles into one's soul. Better able to look after the young men in his care.
Still, he hates most of all that it's not as easy for him and Horatio to carry this burden together.
It means he's almost grateful, when Horatio seeks him out with that pinched look on his face that means something especially is worrying him. Archie hopes it's not about Mr. Wellard-- fears that it is.
Follows after his friend with, at least, some of the same easy settling that they're used to.
The moment they're alone, though, he can't help the way his attention focuses on Horatio (and not, for better or worse, anyone else that may be in the room.)
"What is it, 'ratio?"
Or, more likely, who is it that was having the trouble?
He hates that he hates this ship-- Hates that yet another hope has been dashed by the Navy and its apparent tendency towards letting terrible men into power over good ones. Hates that he could've had a chance for a step up, but instead finds himself back almost at the beginning again.
Only almost, though. He's older, now; better able to handle the hurts that this kind of atmosphere settles into one's soul. Better able to look after the young men in his care.
Still, he hates most of all that it's not as easy for him and Horatio to carry this burden together.
It means he's almost grateful, when Horatio seeks him out with that pinched look on his face that means something especially is worrying him. Archie hopes it's not about Mr. Wellard-- fears that it is.
Follows after his friend with, at least, some of the same easy settling that they're used to.
The moment they're alone, though, he can't help the way his attention focuses on Horatio (and not, for better or worse, anyone else that may be in the room.)
"What is it, 'ratio?"
Or, more likely, who is it that was having the trouble?
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It takes everything in him not to jerk away when Morgana approaches to hug him. Doing so would mean Horatio knowing just how badly the ship is affecting him-- Would have him listening out for the screams Archie has thus far managed to muffle when he wakes from nightmares.
Thankfully, hugging Morgana is an instinct older than all of the ones he's learned in all the places that haunt his dreams. His arms still know how to wrap around her. His head still knows how to duck in closer. They're both taller than they were the last time they'd hugged, but he still remembers how to do this.
"I meant to visit," he murmurs, "But so much-- happened, between times I'd be home it was-- usually best to return to visit the estate, if only for Mother's sake."
He'd also not felt himself the most welcome, between the few letters he'd sent out that he rarely got a response to and the way his own demons had kept him from writing her for so long.
He can't help but hate himself for it, now that so many old suspicions and fears are being confirmed by the simple fact that she's risked so much coming here.
His nod is slow in response to her final words. His expression is, briefly, the heavy kind of weariness he's tried to keep hidden from Horatio.
"The Captain... He reminds me of-- old ghosts." Both hers and his own, "The kind of man that lives to-- own. To control, and-- and possess, no matter what is wanted by those he-- wishes to have."
And then the deadness in his expression is shook away as best he can manage, and he tries only to show his own worry for her and not the struggle of these long years.
"It's not-- safe for you to be found here. You must-- Horatio." His head shifts carefully as it can so he can try to find the other young man's eyes without dislodging his old friend, "--Horatio, there must be some way we can get her out of here, don't you think?"
Even as he asks it, he can't help but hate himself for it. Can't help but hate the way he's adding yet another burden-- another expectation-- to the far too many Horatio carries. Even so, for Morgana's sake, he can't help but ask it.
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People aren't supposed to crowd Archie. They aren't supposed to stumble too quick and too close. They aren't supposed to catch and cling and hold so that Archie can't easily move under his own power--so that Archie's whole body has to briefly go still and silently broken. Half the ship seems to sense it; the old guard who had been dragged along with them, the men who simply knew how to be careful with themselves. The other half, by and large, could be kept away by Horatio physically getting in the way.
He hadn't thought to get in the way of this. It's beyond lucky that Archie's body crumbles in a friendly way, clutching the woman close rather than stiltedly following the motion.
It doesn't stop the haziness at the edges of his mind as his fingers catch at the back of another chair to hold himself fretfully still. His attention drops away and sticks to the floor, a wash of nervous embarrassment rushing through the tips of ears and down toward his cheeks. He isn't supposed to see this. He isn't supposed to be interrupting whatever's happening here.
There's half a beat of stillness before Horatio can drag his attention back to Archie when the other lieutenant addresses him. Reanimation takes a beat beyond that.
"She's said she... She's said she won't go back to England. I'd hoped we might come across a Dutch merchant, but-- if-- If we can hide her across to the Caribbean, A--"
Suddenly, it feels too familiar. The flush in his cheeks darkens faintly as he clears his throat. He's already used the other man's name, but it catches in his throat now all the same.
"--I expect she might have an easier go of it in the Americas. Between the two of us, we might be able to manage it."
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But then Archie had gone away, and maybe her letters weren't getting through, or his weren't, or maybe he had grown up and one of the childish things he had put away was her.
Perhaps, even, he had been lost at sea and no one wanted to upset her "delicate sensibilities". She had no way of finding out, one way or the other. The older she got the tighter Uther had made her bonds.
His I meant to visit is what begins to tip her off, it pulls her back a little so she can look at him and only then does she realise the stiffness in him, the strange differences she couldn't have imagined in a million years but can't quite put words on. The Archie Kennedy she knew, if he really wanted to see her, would've found some way, even for two minutes at some point over the years. Would've gone to one of those stupid balls, something, anything so they could just see each other if only once. He had never come, and she'd had no way of going.
That look... well, she doesn't need to be a mind-reader to know something had gone horribly wrong for her oldest friend. Old ghosts, that almost stuttered explanation about the Captain.
Maybe Sawyer wasn't the first one to get a hold of him. How much of the Navy was like this man they called Captain? How many of them were worse?
Morgana can't help herself, her hand lets go of him and instead brushes briefly, quietly over his jaw. Some kind of comfort, some silent, I am here now, though to help him with what she still doesn't quite understand.
What she does understand is that look in his eye, she's been good neighbours with it a long time. It's what causes her to drop her hand as she notices the old bruises are slipping from under her tunic so he doesn't see them and doesn't feel worse, it's what makes her loosen what remaining grip she has on him in case for some reason he wants to run.
She forgets, until he's mentioned, that Mr Hornblower is even in here. Hell, it takes her a few seconds to realise "Horatio" is "Mr Hornblower".
'It's not safe for me anywhere,' it's quiet, they're talking now and might not want her interruptions - but it is what it is. Yet even she doesn't quite expect what comes out of her mouth next. 'I will go home, if it'll be easier on Archie.' she didn't want to guess at the punishment she would get for leaving the Isles, but it wasn't like Archie would find out. Only Mr Hornblower knew what the oversized tunic hid and Archie never visited anymore. 'If it's easier to send me back with the post than somewhere else or whatever plan it was when you first caught me...'
She's a little too stiff herself, suddenly, though she doesn't try to pull away completely, her eyes skipping past Archie to look at Mr Hornblower, to try to feel out what he thinks - an impossible task so far as she's been able to tell.
rng said he notices the bruises :/
She doesn't need to know he knows. Horatio doesn't need to know how badly shaken he is.
But that doesn't stop him from looking fretful when Horatio mentions the Americas. Doesn't stop his grip from tightening just slightly (and loosening immediately-- he doesn't want her to feel trapped by him) when she tries to say she'll go back.
"Absolutely not." His voice is a little too cold; a little too firm when he speaks. He never knew he could sound so much like his father. It takes effort to regulate it back to something calmer, "The only way you're going back to the Isles is if you're going to my family. You know they'll take care of you. But that may take even longer if we don't come across a merchant vessel. I don't know if I've family in the Caribbean but-- 'ratio, do you really think we can keep her hidden so long?"
The Captain seems to have eyes everywhere, after all.
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His fingers twist unhappily on the back of the chair he's holding himself up by.
"We might." It isn't the best plan he's ever had. None of this had even been close to the best plan he'd ever had. "It'll be easier to manage between the two of us. Less risk of-- anyone else getting involved."
No one wanted the captain involved. More than that, Horatio suspected Archie didn't want to see any of the midshipmen made culpable.
"I've kept her well enough on my own this long. I expect it'll be easier with both of us looking out for her. And there's--"
He doesn't want to make it worse for the other lieutenant. He simply can't stop himself from letting out the unhappy truth.
"--there's nothing else to do, Mr. Kennedy."
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Whatever had happened in the handful of years since last they spoke, since they had curled up in the garden under the sun together just for the fun of it had taken the Archie she knew and buried him alive. Morgana could only hope he was still in there somewhere. Could still be healed, if he could escape this place.
For now, she simply had to make due with the bittersweet taste in her mouth over the fact he was here, right in front of her, and she couldn't even comfort him. That every time Morgana tried, no matter how slight, he froze or shied away. What have they done to my sweet Archie Morgana thought, suppressing the urge to touch him again with her nails quietly digging into her palms.
'I kept myself hidden for four days, I was only found out at all because Mr Hornblower has impeccable timing.' a moment, and then she adds. 'And because he is kind... I was almost sick and he went to comfort me thinking I was one of the young boys.' she had picked a poor time to go seeking for food, but any other time may have turned out much worse. 'I'm afraid I'm turning him prematurely grey.' It's a joke to try to ease him, ease them all but Morgana can't help but think it's true.
'We will work it out. I am small, so long as Mr Hornblower stops shoving hardtack at me every time I so much as grimace or look like I'm going to talk, and no one else suspects I am here. I'm just an extra large rat on your ship.' so long as she wasn't found.
'I will do whatever you both decide is best.' after all, Morgana had been following Horatio's orders, almost to a T and as of yet hadn't alerted to him, aside from the fact she was here at all, what a ball of trouble she could be. Well. Maybe taking her clothes off had warned him but... still.
/resurrects self after 99 years
"He's been turning himself prematurely grey and taking me along with him. It's not just you, Morgana."
There. That helps loosen some of the anxiety in his chest, just a little. That has him nodding slowly in response to her and Horatio's words.
"We'll have to-- figure out a schedule of some sorts, then. And a-- way to sneak you off-ship, when the time comes."
A way to get her the sort of money and provisions she'd need for after her escape, for all she'd likely say she doesn't need them.
slumbering eldritch thread!
That's worth protecting.
"A-- port would be easier." There was so much bustle at a port. There were so many strangers coming and going. On an island, they might even have a wave of women swarm up into the ship with fruit for sale, the sort they could nudge their stowaway in amongst to be whisked safely away. "But if there is a Dutch ship, Mr. Kennedy, it won't be so impossible to bring her across. The boys swing across often enough."
Henry Wellard had an extra uniform they could bundle her into. His own pocket would be able to repay the midshipman for that loss, and might well be enough to see a friendly captain's protection on the hypothetical merchant.
"If you'll help me keep her hidden her until then, at any rate."
I blame the rest of you, personally :p
She doesn't even protest the way Mr Hornblower talks of her as if she's not here. She shouldn't be here, after all, and no matter Archies reassurances Morgana is more than aware of the danger she is causing, the cost her presence may bear and why the man doesn't want to look at her too long.
'I used to beat him at hide and seek, but he was quite good. Weren't you, Archie?' she wants to nudge him, wants to playfully poke him or stick her tongue out. Raise a brow. Something. She resists, her nails carving half moons in her palms even though her voice is light, almost playful. 'We will make it through this.' if only she had done so unnoticed.
i blame life :P
"Hopefully our combined skills will be more than enough to help us-- win. And I'm glad there's-- three of us to think through things, now. I imagine that will help." Another reassuring her smile, before it twists slightly into a frown aimed the other lieutenant's way, "You should've come to me sooner, 'ratio. How long has it been? I can't imagine you haven't been driving yourself to distraction."
I BLAME SOCIETY
His attention flits to Morgana, half-guilty and fully avoiding his shipmate's question. "It really will be easier with the three of us. Would--?"
There isn't a polite way to say it. There isn't something that doesn't skim just shy of inappropriate.
"--would you like a moment?"
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If things were the same, she'd want too, if she thought he'd tell her what's wrong, she'd want too, but he had flinched at her mere touch and Morgana can't help but feel she'll only hurt him further.
Looking over at Horatio is easier, though her breath catches strangely as she tries to put how desperately she wants to fix whatever is wrong out of her mind.
'We were friends, Mr Hornblower, never lovers. Ladies don't get to have those.' not for lack of awkward pauses and lingering affections, either. Yet somehow she feels Horatio ought to know, perhaps he'll stop holding his own breath so much, or whatever it was he was doing to cause his own odd demeanour.
'He would come visit, or I would go visit. All terribly proper.' except for the nights she spent curled against his side, just for a little warmth, nothing else. Or the fleeting press of lips she's now half certain she's imagined with the way he had flinched, wanted to pull away.
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"We'll... I hope we can talk later," he tells Morgana softly. He doesn't want to push her if she doesn't want to speak of it, but he hopes she'll be able to trust him again, someday, "But right now the two of you ought to-- fill me in on how you've been managing so far. How I can-- help."
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His jaw can't fully unclench from the hum of nerves beneath his skin as his gaze drops to the floor. His nod still feels sharp and mechanical, mind whirling through the new machinations they'll manage with a third person helping to keep the lady hidden.
"We've kept her in my bunk, Mr. Kennedy." Where no one thought twice to see the back of a ship's boy resting; where everyone assumed that the young lieutenant was simply letting some exhausted soul steal a few minute's rest while the captain was distracted. "No one's noticed the food."
She didn't take much, after all, and he had long since learned to eat less than what had been allotted to him.
"I've not figured how to-- give her much proper air and daylight." His brow stays furrowed as he glances up at Morgana again. "For which I am truly sorry."
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'Whenever you feel up to it, Archie... Promise.' she looked back at him then, trying to keep how much she wanted to curl against him like they were children again out of her eyes.
As for Mr Hornblower, well, he's still by far the most uptight man she's ever glimpsed - though on this ship that may well be warranted. Still, she didn't know what to make of the strange way he reacted to all of this, to her knowing Archie. It was a strange coincidence, but merely that. At least he hadn't seemed to piece together what her knowing Archie most of her life meant: her nobility, and therefore, who would be missing her.
'I didn't expect to see the sun anytime soon, Mr Hornblower, as I told you I barely moved the first four days the ship was at sea...'
There was no need to worry Archie about the fact she refused to eat more than would stop her from collapsing or that the best spot of sun she had gotten was through that tiny window she had half thought Horatio would shove her out of the day he found her.
'Too much risk, your Captain or one of the boys might realise I am not what I am dressed as.'
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He nods absently as he listens to Horatio's explanation, biting his lip thoughtfully. He can't help but look sympathetic when he realizes how long Morgana's been without sunlight and fresh air.
"Perhaps on Sundays, when all hands are called to listen to the Captain," he says, expression going more quietly blank again at the mention of the man, "It's not much safer than you being in Horatio's bunk so often, but if we only do it every so often it may yet work."