captainhornblower | First Dispatch

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First Dispatch - [written]

[The penmanship is formal, letters close together but not connected. Each letter is made of strokes, an almost calligraphy style-- which translates into broken letters with a modern pen.]

Thursday, 10th January, 1805

[A hastily scrawled question mark appears above the date a moment later.]

My precise location is unknown. [A long pause before more words are written.] My general location is unknown. My ship and men are missing. ~~God help me, what has happened?~~

[Notes appear in the margins, wind direction and estimations of its speed. The word 'drift?' and the beginnings of a mathematical formula are etched into a margin.]

I do not know how I came to be where I am. [Another margin note: 'wings???'] I cannot expect this to even be found, but I will record my observations. It is all I can do, and I must do something.

Currently on board vessel. [Another note in the margins:
'unoccupied
single mast
no flags
enemy?
ally?
neutral party?
abandoned?']

~~May the Lord have mercy on me.~~

[The signature is larger, even more carefully penned.]

Hornblower

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Certainly there is sometimes enjoyment.

[For just a moment, his tone was not amused or surprised or worried. It was pure contentment.

But then he thinks about her question, and the contentment fades but does not vanish. Still, though, it's something more to consider.]

No. I didn't in the slightest.

[her tone gentles. This...this isn't just a difference in times. It's the same kind of uncertainty and disbelief that she's fielded her whole life. It's what made Geordie sigh when she talked about the professor's housekeeper being a goblin. It's what made Sophie grimace whenever Jilly brought up her being part fae. They didn't want to believe.

Or, even if they did, they couldn't. It was very difficult to see the magic in something when you were busy hunting for the trap door or the trick mirror]

We're in a place where anything is possible. Anything. [another time, she'd argue that this was the world they knew back home, too. That most people just didn't take the time to open their eyes to it. But that's a thought for later.] There's science so different that it feels like a miracle. There's magic that brings worlds and people together without any boundary between race or time or even universe.

It's a double edged sword. Magic...or whatever you want to call it... it's not inherently good. It can help and it can hurt. But it's always...

[she falters, hunting for the word] ...wondrous.

Edited 2011-05-07 05:47 (UTC)

...Well, it could've been worse. You might have had to cook for yourself.

[After a little more food, then the right moment, then brandy.]

Very far. You're not in Kansas anymore, that's for sure.

[ which is another mostly unhelpful bit of dark humour. ] Has someone sent you the guide yet?

[There are the sounds of sputtering and fuming and finally the journal slamming shut. There is one infuriated pirate who will eventually make it to the ocean today--probably having missed Horatio and Archie, but to get his boat back in hand with the hopes it hasn't drifted to the Barrier by the time he DOES get there.]

I think I might have starved in that case.

[There we go. Archie raises his glass of brandy.]

To all chefs and stewards, past and present. Ever we complain, yet ever we continue to eat.

[This is likely to set off a string of toasts.]

Edited 2011-05-07 18:34 (UTC)

[Tempted as he was not to give a damn about a pirate vessel... Horatio also deeply appreciated what a man's ship was. The craft had been taken as far ashore as he could manage without making it too difficult to get back to sea. He'd also run a line he'd found from the ship to a piece of driftwood, half buried in sand to weight it.

Permanent? Certainly not. But it might buy enough time for the boat's owner to reclaim her before she could drift.]

[He almost writes a reply but thinks better of it.]

Yes.

[He listens in silence, smiling a bit.

Anything was possible in this place, no doubt about that. His dearest friend, dead for three years, was alive and well. He was reunited with said friend. Whatever anyone else wanted to tell him about this place, he was now quite inclined to believe.

But as for a reply... he's uncertain. He cannot doubt what she's saying, but he is not qualified to offer much opinion on this world. He's gotten the sense (and he got it quickly) that he has not seen the half of what this strange place is capable of doing.]

It shall certainly be an experience, being here.

Good. Some not-so-light reading to get you started. I'm Buffy Summers. Hi.

[ her name's in there a few times; not that she really realizes it. ]

Captain Horatio Hornblower, of His Britannic Majesty's Atropos.

[...Yes, he will continue to introduce himself as that when writing.]

[ a long. long. long. long pause. ]

Horatio -- ? [ it couldn't be. could it be? well, damn. ] Met anyone here from your home yet, Horatio?

[And the witchcraft book has gotten very informal again.

More reason to dislike this thing, in his opinion.]

Should I have?

I should hope to God none of my fellows are here.

[His tune will change in, oh, five minutes when the person he's waiting for on the beach arrives.]

[Horatio raises his glass in reply.]

To all chefs and stewards.

[After taking a sip of brandy, he has to smile. Normally, he would avoid giving a toast, but with only Archie here, there is nothing to fear.

He raises his glass again. His tone is more serious than he'd meant for it to be, though the relief and joy in every word is apparent.]

To dear friends, together once more after too long apart.

Edited 2011-05-07 19:34 (UTC)

[ and yet, knowing about archie's death -- well, she'll let horatio get that surprise out of the way all on his own. ]

Is anyone coming to help you? [ and after eying over some of the other responses. she recognizes archie's writing, at least. ]

I believe so.

Some of the writing that has appeared in this thing said there was, at least.

[ and dawn will be ignoring that sarcasm with the purposeful, focused cheerfulness she has in her. ]

I should probably-- [ let archie come get you so you can do that bonding stuff, stop digging a hole-- ] Go see if my roommates are home. Try not to touch the wings, okay? And just in case no one else said it, don't pull on the feathers. Seriously, don't.

The writing belongs to people. Different people. Co-captives.

Far too long. [With another sip, he raises the glass again.] To the health of the Malnosso: may it suffer forever.

It is very curious.

[He'll believe it's actually people when he sees it. Right now? He's not accepting anything as absolute truth.]

Of course.

[Once he knows who you are, Dawn? You'll get an apology. And there may be subtle grovelling. He has no idea the kind of hole he's dug for himself.]

[ noting that someone's coming for horatio, buffy'll take her leave. she never likes to write much anyway. she's more of a talker. ]

Well? Good luck. Maybe I'll talk to you again once you're settled?

[He takes another sip, chuckling under his breath.

They can't do too much damage, splitting a single bottle of brandy between them... And he can admit, they'll probably end up drinking the whole thing.

He refrains from another toast right away, instead taking a few more bites of stew and smiling over at Archie.]

I expect you to tell me everything you've gotten up to here.

[If he didn't sleep tonight? He didn't sleep tonight.

...Honestly, he was a bit wary about the idea of sleep. What if he woke up back in Portsmouth? Or even in his cabin of the Hotspur? It would be too painful to discover this was only a dream.]

Perhaps.

[He's not sure he likes the idea that the book plans to write more to him, but he won't say that.

He just needs time to get used to it.]

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