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?
no subject
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?"
no subject
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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
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."
no subject
'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.'
no subject
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."