tentacruelest | 8th Wave

8th Wave

Th' next time this Barge feels like poking around in my head, I'll be keeping to my quarters. The lot of yeh - useless dregs not fit to scrub a floor. It's bad enough I'm locked in here with you, I don't need to call any of yeh friends.

[Private to Bush]

Was dealing with me yerself so difficult that you sought to work through less offensive channels, Captain?

[Private to Arthas]

A word, my king.

[Can you feel that heavy sarcasm, Arthas?]

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It is kind of her to say so, for the little I did.

But it was nothing more'n hoping it would be something for you to do besides remember.

[He will say it frankly if Jones makes him, but years of handling touchy officers had made him more inclined to first try something Jones would find more acceptable.

He still won't mention that he cautiously approves of this friendship with Sylvanas-- Jones isn't likely to begin to trust him all of a sudden, but it is a good sign that he can at least have a fast friendship with someone.]

There is nothing I have worth remembering. And that includes whatever it was I appeared to be the week prior.

She suffered.

Then I am glad the memories of pain didn't linger.

[And he means it, entirely, and it shows on his craggy face and in his eyes. He lies badly; he is honest very well.]

Is there something she needs without a warden to provide? If it's only company, you've got more power to give that than I have. She don't like me much, and I think her recent willingness to talk much to me was down to that past flood.

No more than all the rest ever did. Despite myself, I survive.

It was; I guarantee you it was.

And I plan to give her a gift. I'd prefer it if you stayed out of the way when I do.

[This is the tact he manages: that he does not show how pleased he is.

Some romantic part of him would find it very charming if these two supernatural spectors found love on the barge; but more to the point, he is pleased with the friendship they already have. Because it means Jones is not entirely lost-- and, troublingly, for Jones' own sake. Despite Bush's best intentions, it is a little difficult at times not to respect the man despite his cruelties.]

I shall.

And you'd never admit to wanting anything it was in my power to give, so that is my duty discharged there.

[Bush would probably enjoy the moment less if he knew the gift Jones planned to give Sylvanas was Arthas' head on a plate. But one man's homicide is another man's gesture of affection]

No, I wouldn't. It is not in my nature to trust gifts given without other want attached.

You make it damn'd easy to be your warden. It may not be very successful, my employment here, but it's a life of idleness.

[He does not quite mean that, either. If he looks worried, it is because he is going to have to figure out how to persuade yet another touchy officer that they are manipulating him into doing something unawares instead of simply asking him for what's necessary.

At least with Jones he is not fretting because the man won't sleep and forgets to eat.]

Is that permission to make it harder on you, Captain?

Get used to this unsuccessful pursuit. P'haps in another year or so yeh'll accept I will not be graduating, and go on to pursue your goal with another inmate.

If you can think of something more novel than threat and quarreling. I have seen plenty enough of that in my career.

Aye. His Majesty's navy was always the breeding ground for new tortures invented by bored men. I'm not at all surprised.

You being so innocent you don't know how a Captain can make a ship like hell.

What you are doing is tween-decks squabbling, Jones. Leave'm be, it don't much increase your dignity to spat like this. You are more like a couple of hands fighting over some bottle of stolen brandy than like Mistborn and Mistresses of Time and the devil of all sailors.

No. I know very well. Intimately well.

I never knew ye to be so concerned over my dignity.

All I ask is to serve out my eternal sentencing in relative peace. But they will never give it.

If you think I ain't telling them to drop it as well then you're wrong.

If you've got to fight, come with me in the CTS and turn pistols and cutlass against a few ghosts. Between the two of us we are almost assured a ship battle.

They are wardens. I am an inmate. The blame lies with me.

...Hmmph. I will admit, I'm...tempted.

Blame's not in such short supply it can be shared.

You could count me a little in your debt. I am about pining for the smell of powder and the sound of shot.

You needn't claim false loyalty to me simply because some daft Admiral stuck us together, Bush.

As am I. There's nothing near to a fair fight when every bloody idiot's arrived hundreds of years after your time.

If you say so. But I'd still like a sea battle.

The Marquis of Sade is all right for an old libertine but he has never seen a sailing vessel in his life, I think. He was infantry. The purest lubber. It ain't the same.

That I know. You and I are the only men on this barge who know what real sailing is.

You have got me maudlin as an officer's wife over it now. I'm going to the CTS-- if you decide you should join me I'll bring a few extra weapons for you to use inside.

Give me time to get up there. I'm not nearly as fast as yeh. Not on this ship.

I'll wait at the door to the upper decks; if I go alone it will probably give me a battery to storm again and to hell with storming batteries.

And it would not storm against me, you believe?

I hope you're too much of the sea for it to send you trudging up onto land after a shore battery.

Seeing as how I'm cursed not to step foot on land save once a decade, I can't see why it would.

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8th Wave

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