tentacruelest | 13th Wave

13th Wave

[Spam for Above]

[It's been....decades since he was in London. Centuries, it feels like.

Jones stands on paved streets in hidden disguise, for all intents and purposes looking completely human. The Barge magic does its work well: no one gives him a second glance.

He's on firm, solid land again. Hates it: keeps looking over his shoulder to check to make sure the sea is still there. And London itself has changed. Hundreds of years have passed here in the blink of an eye. The streets have changed, old haunts torn down to make way for the new. Even old staples he believed would last forever were now changed - the royal family no longer resided at St. James's, but in a new castle. Somewhere called Buckingham Palace. Ridiculous.

To the casual observer, his height and expression seem to be enough to dissuade strangers from striking up conversation.

But to the Barge residents, it's clear that Jones is uneasy and mildly distressed. He doesn't belong here, in every sense of the idea]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Bush looks at him with a surprise hardly less profound than the shark inspired. And then, a little unbelieving, smiles, and nods firmly.]

Together, Captain Jones.

[He nods, taking his hand back and treading cautiously into the shallows. The modern age is wholly overwhelming and this new experience is daunting as he's never seen before, but he's in good company. And it's silly to be nervous about something one intimately knows better than themselves]

[Bush remains a little awestruck all through; usually not a man much interested in reading, he devours the information from the placards by the tanks, learning the names of bright new fish, gaping shamelessly at the jellyfish, watching the sharks with as much badly disguised enthusiasm as some of the school children around him.

He makes a chortle of delight at one point, waving for Jones.]

He's got eyes like a sand glass, this fellow! I swear he came out of a crack in the rock no wider than my thumb, he's the size of my hand easy.

[He has found a common octopus, stirring out for feeding time, and is absurdly charmed. It's nearly enough to make a man regret having eaten the things in foreign ports.]

Edited 2014-01-27 02:47 (UTC)

[Jones too is stunned, but he's learned to hide it better. This, plus the dint of experience first-hand with such creatures makes walking through the aquarium more of a pleasant but lonely trip home than anything to do with wholly new experiences. He seems to pause and smile at certain tanks, recalling past adventures or encounters with the creatures inside. What's chiefly amusing is Bush's face, who looks like a gaping trout himself midway through.

He comes over when called, stopping beside Bush to peer into the tank.]

I'd have thought you'd be used to tentacles by now, Bush. They're tricky devils.

This little fellow isn't insulting me, so I'm partial to him. [Bush's eyes twinkle, and he watches the octopus glide across its tank with deliberate tentacular strides, taking a piece of fish and tucking it under its mantle to eat.]

You're accustomed to all of these creatures? I haven't seen the half of them. I've met men who've seen penguins, never have myself, we've got to make a visit of'm.

If he could speak, he might.

[But Jones looks with fondness towards the little octopus, amused and a little jealous over how quick it is]

Most of 'em. Some you'd have to go a fair far way to see, so it's odd seeing them all mixed in together like this. And not penguins; the Dutchman don't like the ice. Penguins ain't fish.

[Bush smiles at that-- has lapsed from his seriousness back into a man willing to be friends more than he is willing to be offended, in the past weeks-- and watches the little creature bloom its different colours and then, having eaten, settle in for a nap, making itself look every inch a disinterested rock. It's pretty splendid, to him, there's no denying it.]

It'll be the first penguin for both of us then.

You're acting like a boy of eight, Warden. They're only flightless birds.

[Still, he smirks and starts off in the correct direction, pausing only to press his fingertips against the octopus' tank in farewell]

You look like a schoolmaster, and are beginning to sound like one, too. [That moment will stay in his mind a while, the press of Jones' human-seeming fingers against the tank; it will begin to niggle in his mind, in days to come. For now he tucks it away to look over later and heads along with him-- as Jones notes, pretty excited.]

Can't say it was ever a career that appealed t'me. Or that I ever saw a schoolmaster.

[Still, calmer and lighter than he's felt in a good many months, Jones sets off to the penguin enclosure, stepping around a gaggle of small children to pause at the lighted pool. More than two-dozen of the monochrome birds huddle around the shoreline, making squawking noises at each other]

I'll admit the most I saw of a schoolmaster was old Lieutenant Clay-- him in charge of teaching all the new midshipmen their lessons in navigation. Manner about like yours, though.

What a stink! Like a chicken coup only more of fish. They are charming little things, though. Who would have thought there were birds couldn't fly?

What, you mean stubborn to the point of stupidity?

[Jones can take ribbing, if he's the one who instigates it first. He steps to the side of the pen, looking first to the penguins and then to the herd of first-graders around them]

D'yeh mean the ones in the cage or out?

Oh, they are a bunch of likely little souls; given five years and they would do for ship's boys... Well, not the young ladies, unless Perks would play master.

I mean the ones outside the cage. We'd never get trousers on the penguins.

Oh, doubtless. Although I'd like t'see you try to wrestle one into a pair.

[He smirks, eyeing Bush's comment about ladies. He turns his back on the penguins to look at the six-year-olds. With the hand that might have otherwise been a claw, he points at each little girl in turn]

Anne Bonney. Mary Read. Ching Shih. Grace O'Malley.

[reluctantly]

King Swann.

There's a fair few number o' women pirates and sailors I wouldn't dare cross. I expect there's a handful in your own navy, hiding in plain sight.

...you're likely right. You hear about ladies dressing as men to go to war-- even in my time, let alone our Sergeant Perks and Corporal Maladicta.

So even on a ship, cheek to jowl, a woman can slip in.

So the girls too?

Aye, the girls too. An' they fight like demons.

P'haps even your Hornblower. Ever seen him undressed? He's pretty enough.

[okay now he's just being ridiculous]

...you are on the wrong trail there. Half the fleet has seen him undressed. Had the strangest habit of taking a shower every day... Well, it was strange to us. He'd stand under the wash deck pump happy as anything.

...No, that's strange to me too. What does a man need so much showering for? Waste of water.

Most on the barge'd think it usual. But they wouldn't bathe in salt water-- because most of'm have never had to ration water.

Aye. When our Barge eventually starts to dwindle on supplies, our fellow travelers will have not a bloody clue how to react.

I wouldn't like to see it, no.

Not like-

[That other barge, starving and hellish.]

No.

[Too late, Jones' own thoughts fly to the other Barge. But rather than feel embarrassed or ashamed, he feels...regret. The person on the other Barge was a far better man than he is now]

No. Not like that.

You know, Jones, you should tell me about some of your travels, when you saw some of these fish.

There's a hotel nearby-- we could stay there, at the Admiral's expense, come back here everyday of port if you like, or go wherever we can on foot, pretend we are idle gentlemen. Perhaps a trinket or two for friends and loved ones aboard.

[He is forcing his cheer, driving his mind away from those memories.]

We are idle gentlemen. I've never worked so little on a ship in me life.

[But he contends with this idea, looking back towards the penguin enclosure]

...I'd like to come back for the shark-feeding.

Might as well be at a yachting party, I know. It's unnatural.

[He links his hands behind his back and nods firmly.] Then why shan't we. I think we shall.

(no subject)

tentacruelest - 2014-02-01 13:59 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only