13th Wave

[tentacruelest]

[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]

Comments

[shakenandlimp]

Still standing. Oh, you can tell things have changed, for it's peace and there isn't a crowd of half-pay officers lurking around the gates and hoping for preference, to be chosen for one of the few commands. Saw a good bit of that. I only know this part of London for the Admiralty-- never spent much time in the rest of it. Knew Portsmouth better, of course.

This area up ahead that it calls Trafalgar Square, that is what they called Charing Cross, I think?

[He frowns in concentration. Despite having visited a few times and being familiar with the area surrounding the Admiralty, he can't really claim to be very familiar with London.]

[tentacruelest]

[Bush is far more familiar to London than Jones is; he isn't English, and it's been over a century since he stepped foot in the city. Long before he was cursed, in fact. He grimaces, reaching for the map]

There's no shame in being lost.

[shakenandlimp]

It's not called that any more, at any rate. No, it's ... here? [He frowns at the map a few moments more and then reluctantly hands it over.] Hard to miss this at least!

[Trafalgar Square, that new establishment, is wide open and rather grand to Bush's eyes, with its grecian architecture, the column atop which stands a statue of-]

Admiral Nelson! See? I can't make the face from this distance but the empty sleeve, must be.

[There is also, inexplicably, a great blue statue of a cockerel which Bush refuses to gape at, because for all he knows, fifteen-foot statues of cockerels are in vogue and it would mark him out as an ignorant visitor to stare.]

[tentacruelest]

[Jones takes the map in hand, carefully reading it. He has an eye for navigation, but it's usually on the sea; never on land before. Glancing up, he eyes the Square...and the cockerel. And says nothing, because maybe in London that's supposed to be there. But he's unhappy about it either way]

Well, go on, then. Head over.

[shakenandlimp]

You can stay and try to make sense of the map, then! I won't burden you with the history of it.

[Difficult not to-- not to say how he only ever saw Nelson like this, from a distance-- to talk about the Trafalgar action itself, the daring tactics, the near-loss of the Victory, the chaos that he mostly saw through portholes as he commanded a bank of guns on the lower gun deck. The storms! He will never forget how they whipped up and near battered French and English alike into wrecks.

He goes around himself, and doesn't tell these stories, for the better. When he returns he is melancholy again, as a man will be when he stands in a monument to a great battle that has been all but forgotten by passers by, a monument given over to modern art and small brass plaques that tell the history of buildings not constructed in his lifetime. He manfully tries to conceal it all, of course, coming back with a cheerful smile that he tries to make look natural. .

Well. Well! Made any headway with that map?

[tentacruelest]

[Jones has parked himself on a bench by the end of it, map splayed across his knees as he studiously puts pen to paper, getting a sense of where things are. As Bush approaches, he lifts his head, eyeing the man's expression]


Somewhat. I know enough to know we're nearly lost.

What is it?

[shakenandlimp]

What-?

I meant we should try to go see what they know about Sea Life in London.

[tentacruelest]

Not a lot, by my assessment of most Englishmen here.

[He stands up, looking curiously to Bush but finally deciding it's not worth the trouble of trying to figure out his warden]

This way. Said your goodbyes to your Admiral?

[shakenandlimp]

You're ridiculous, Jones. Even I know it's only a statue.

[A very old statue, and the expression of a man lost that passes over his face might have the answers he was trying to hide from Jones with it.]

I'll let you navigate us; mind we don't wind up swimming to Scottland.

[tentacruelest]

[He sees the expression...and decides not to comment. Bush has always been very considerate of his own demons of the past: he'll do the same]

Swimming to Scotland would be preferable. I miss it.

[But he turns, and begins walking the rest of the way towards the aquarium]

[shakenandlimp]

I can't swim. There are easier ways of ducking my company, I'm sure-!

[Bush follows along, trying to be in good spirits-- given time, he can talk himself back into a decent mood, and does, even breaking their journey just long enough to make the daunting experiment of ordering coffee. Largely by dint of asking for something 'strong and sweet and plenty of it, whatever you recommend,' which he is fortunate that the barista finds charming instead of maddening.

He is entrusted with a mocha, pays his five pounds(!) for it, and quickly follows after Jones again.]

[tentacruelest]

[He looks at the mocha, full of doubt and amusement, before halting at the doors of the aquarium]

Any idiot can at least float, Bush. Perhaps one day I'll toss yeh over the side for a quick lesson.

[He pulls open the door, glancing up at the glassy interior]

[shakenandlimp]

Not even you can swim in space, Jones-

[Whatever an aquarium is, it is crammed below a county hall and Bush expects very little.

His expectation is so strong that he isn't looking for anything but the price of admittance, which everything seems to have-- nearly forty pounds for two men, and more cash than he might see in one place for a year at a time, that. But the Admiral's credit is good, and he gets their tickets and turns to Jones with one outstretched-- and stops, at his first glimpse of a thick wall of glass and dappled bluegreen light.]

[tentacruelest]

[Jones is silent now, walking away to let Bush pay for their entrance. He separates himself from a school of children knee-high and running around to walk up to the glass enclosure, staring back out through a tunnel that surrounds pedestrians on three sides of water.

The effect is to make it seem like the humans are all under the ocean, but to Jones it only reminds him of being home again]

[shakenandlimp]

Ah. [Bush is stunned silent except for that one exhalation, and then a short gasp as a great shadow swims over head. A shark, fully eight feet long-- not the largest he has seen, but impossibly close to him-- cuts the water above his head. He cannot swim; he's never seen the water this way before, never seen the quality of light through it except for the barge's own smaller shark tank. This is-- this is a much bigger thing than that.]

[tentacruelest]

[Water never held any fear for Jones, even when he was a mortal man with the capacity for drowning. He turns at the great shadow, twisting around to watch the shark swim off on its own way, both fascinated and homesick all at once. The aquarium is set up like a reef, which was never all that common to him, so the combination of so many different creatures in one place is an overabundance of wealth.

Finally he realizes that they're not even properly inside yet, and turns to guide Bush further into the building]

Yeh all right, Bush?

[shakenandlimp]

I've never seen anything like this.

[tentacruelest]

[Fortunately, Bush's absolute astonishment is giving Jones something to focus on besides his own shock. He grimaces, clapping a hand to the man's shoulder]


...Together, then?

[shakenandlimp]

[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.

[tentacruelest]

[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]

[shakenandlimp]

[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.]

[tentacruelest]

[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.

[shakenandlimp]

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.

[tentacruelest]

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.

[shakenandlimp]

[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.