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

[tentacruelest]

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.

[shakenandlimp]

...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?

[tentacruelest]

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]

[shakenandlimp]

...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.

[tentacruelest]

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

[shakenandlimp]

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.

[tentacruelest]

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

[shakenandlimp]

I wouldn't like to see it, no.

Not like-

[That other barge, starving and hellish.]

No.

[tentacruelest]

[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.

[shakenandlimp]

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.]

[tentacruelest]

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.

[shakenandlimp]

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.

[tentacruelest]

It's going to be a miserable day if we ever find ourselves on an actual ship trapped with the Barge drones. They won't know one line from th' other.

[Jones nods back, pleased. He steps away from the enclosure at last]

I've seen enough for today.