[luceti] - Appointments

[captainhornblower]

Messages and meetings for Cpt. Horatio Hornblower.


(Please title and date as appropriate.)

Comments

[action, June 1st, around 10pm]

[simplestgift]

[Archie is sitting on the couch with a thousand-yard stare, journal closed beside him. Clearly he's seen the draft notice. If anyone knows a hopeless situation when he sees one...]

[captainhornblower]

[Horatio hasn't yet left for the appointment he set with Jilly, but he's been very quiet-- not that this is much of a change-- since the notice went up.

A war. Not that different from home. This shouldn't be too different than the press, but he knows at least one name on that list that's female. And that unsettles him. As does risking Archie.

Wordlessly, he sinks down to sit beside Archie.]

[action | Clinic | June 12, just after midnight]

[tehoniongirl.livejournal.com]

[It had been a long few days.

Archie was stable, but unresponsive, a quiet form slumbering in a hospital bed. She thought that might be the hardest bit...seeing him so still when she was used to him smiling and moving and just...being.

Jilly had refused to go back to House 7 or her apartment, choosing instead to stay close in case of any change, but that was nothing compared to Horatio.

Horatio might have been a statue for all he'd moved these past few days. It was a vigil she could respect and, until now, had been careful not to disturb. But starving himself with worry would do Archie no favors, and it's with this thought in mind that she slips into the small room carrying a small tray with two sandwiches and two cups of coffee.]

[captainhornblower]

[Horatio had been asleep when Jilly came into the room, dozed off in his chair. He'd sat sentinel by Archie's bedside every moment of every day that he'd been allowed. When sent from the room, he barely strayed beyond the doorway.

He's spoken when spoken to, eaten a bag of chips or drank a cup of water put before him, but it had been done without any real acknowledgement. And every minute that passed found him glancing at Archie hoping for the best and fearing for the worst.

His sleep patterns had suffered most. No matter when he dozed off, one could set a watch by him. At the hour or half hour, he would start awake, as if shaken. Then he would glance about, sometimes reach out to touch his friend's shoulder, and settle back in for another too-short attempt at sleep.

Rather than simply shift in his chair and try again to sleep, he saw movement, and his eyes rested on Jilly. Once his mind could connect who she was, he bowed his head in polite but silent greeting.]

[voice | June 17th]

[simplestgift]

Hraysho?

[Horatio might be getting a bite to eat, or something, but he's not in the room and Archie is remembering to have him do something.]

[captainhornblower]

Mm.

[It's the sound of someone waking up from a nap. Not a deep sleep, but enough to be disoriented for a second.

The next moment, however, Horatio's voice is clearer, wide awake, but still quiet, gentle.]

What is it, Archie?

[action | Cullen House | June 27th]

[simplestgift]

[There are footsteps coming up the stairs. Wordlessly, there's fumbling at the doorknob. The sound of a key sliding in. The sound of the knob turning and the door creaking open.

The sight of Archie looking a little like a ghost.]

Come on, Horatio. Let's get you home.

[action | Cullen House | June 27th]

[captainhornblower]

[Horatio stands quickly when there's the sound of the knob turning. By the time the door opens, he's on his feet and ready to say... something.

Until he sees Archie's face.

Instantly, Horatio's expression softens, and he takes a careful step toward his friend.]</small. Archie. What's wrong?

[action, September 27, midday]

[tehoniongirl.livejournal.com]

[Doors were tricky things when you were the size of a thumb. So were windows, which were much too high off the ground to be of any use at all, except that Jilly was determined.

Climbing trees became something altogether different when getting your arms around the trunk was merely a dream. Instead, the cragged and pitted bark acted like a climbing wall with plenty of footholds and handholds for her to use to scramble up towards one of the lower limbs.

It was slow going. If she'd been in any sort of rush, it would have been impossible, the minutes slipping into an hour and then two before she'd finally managed to balance herself on the branch, rather than clinging to its side. Tiny limbs sprawling, she rested there under the shelter of the leaves until her breathing evened out and she felt ready to tackle the challenge of the house.

Though she'd started early in the morning, the sun was already creeping closer to the middle of the sky as she clambered along the thin-fingered branches that spanned the gap between the tree and the house that had been claimed by Archie and Horatio.

Her wings fluttered every so often, helping to keep her balanced as she made her way over the window casing, slipping under the cracked pane as easily as the autumn breeze. Once there, however, she looked over the living room, both for any sign of her wandering friends and also, more particularly, for a way down into the room itself.]

[action, September 27, midday]

[captainhornblower]

[A bookcase lines the wall just beside the window, though that might not be much help in getting down.

On the couch across the room, though, is a familiar, tall figure, unaware of his smaller-than-usual visitor. A makeshift splint runs from the middle of his right palm to a few inches below his wrist. Beneath the splint is one layer of bandages, and he is trying to lace a second round over the splint.

...Being right-handed, this is proving more than a little difficult. But he's too stubborn (and disinclined to talk about the further aggravation to his poor sword-hand) to pick up the journals to ask for help.]

[Action, October 27, Afternoon]

[unlayered.livejournal.com]

[As far as small children went, Jilly was deceptively quiet. It was easy to get her talking, if you asked the right questions. Telling stories, singing songs, explaining her pictures...those would get the babble and excitement characteristic of a child four years old and outgoing. But without prompting, she knew the value of staying quiet. Staying invisible.

So it was that, left to the sailors so Buffy and Jack could get a brief respite from their impromptu childcare duties, the girl was more than capable of occupying herself. After a (thankfully) short stint of showing off the songs she'd learned, she'd settled down with a stack of paper and crayons and had been quite content with her creations.

Or, at least, that's where she had been. Now, her spot at the coffee table was currently abandoned...and the apartment was unnervingly quiet.]

[captainhornblower]

[It's his own fault.

The days and nights have been spent watching the steady advancement of the moon while trying to go on about his life. Certainly not an easy thing to do. Yet that has meant that the straight-laced captain has not slept properly in some time.

So it came to pass that he fell asleep sitting on the couch while the little girl coloured. Just nodded off for a minute... or thirty.

When he wakes up, she's nowhere to be seen, and that prompts a very minor (read: major) panic.]

Jilly? [His voice is raised to carry through the house but concerned, not angry.]

October 22nd, around 1:30 AM, action

[simplestgift]

Those dreams are back. Not all of them are about Simpson, and not all of the ones about Simpson depict literal events. Always, there's the one where the other mid is dragging him under the stormy ocean, then releasing him to float haplessly on the surface until he gives up and allows himself to drown. Sometimes, he's running from wild dogs and screaming for help as tears run down his face and onlookers simply gape--nothing that really happened, besides the gaping and the utter, unbelievable terror. But there really, truly are some dreams that could have been lifted from life events. About Ferrol, about Simpson. Moreover, during these dreams, Kennedy often mutters fitfully--mostly nonsense, sometimes actual words, sometimes nothing more than strained, harsh vocalizations that don't even resemble speech. This generally comes directly before awakening, and sometimes his talking brings him fully awake, as it does now.

"No!"

He kicks both feet separately, kicking the blankets off as if they are an attacker. The instant he does so, his eyes open fully and he gasps in a breath as, for an awful moment, he has no idea where he is. Then, he turns on the bedside lamp, as quickly as if his life depended on its light evaporating any attackers invading his bedroom. The candle he always had lit by his bedside before going to sleep had already gone out. Gasping in the glow of the lamp, he takes deep, shuddering breaths to regain himself. A light is on in the hallway, and if it wasn't, Archie would be running through the house and turning on every light.

It's all right, Archie. A bad dream.

[captainhornblower]

The faint light in the hall doubles then triples. Flicking on lights is not yet as natural a habit as lighting candles, but it's only a moment before there's a tall, pale, thin figure in the doorway of the room. He might look tired, but he doesn't look newly woken.

The day Horatio Hornblower can sleep easily throughout the whole night will be a remarkable day indeed.

"Archie?" It's soft, low. Jarred awake, he trusts his own ears more than his eyes, so he'll speak and wait for acknowledgement before coming in further. He isn't greatly worried, but he knows what it's like-- those few disorienting moments between sleep and wakefulness, where everything is blurred and one cannot quite grasp something clearly.

It's a modified reaction from years ago, when he would have been sitting at the bedside in a second, but that thought doesn't even occur to him. Not immediately.

Action | November 13th, at night

[unneeded]

She said Horatio was here. Archie waits nervously, utterly lost as to what to think of all this. He might be dreaming. There's no other explanation for the wings. But it doesn't feel like a dream or an hallucination. And if Horatio is here, he's inclined to believe he really is in another world.

IT IS A BABY MID. HOW CUTE IS THE BABY MID? TOO CUTE, THAT'S HOW CUTE

[captainhornblower]

It took Hornblower half a minute or less to reach the door. His cup of coffee-- made two hours ago and long since cool but still sipped at to give himself something to do-- was abandoned without a second thought. The message on the journal had been a blessing, and he had not worried himself too much over what the Malnosso might have done. It was a concern. Of course it was. But what mattered more was that Archie was back. Back.

Thank God.

"Archie." It was only after the initial relief lessened that Horatio noticed the height difference in the man he was looking at. "Archie." The second time was much more uncertain and much more worried. He took a step back to clear the doorway. This would take a moment to properly process. But first. "Come in. Come in."

[action, November 15, around 6am]

[tehoniongirl.livejournal.com]

[The sun is only just beginning to peek above the horizon when Jilly comes by the sailors' place. It's early, but she suspects it's not too early for them. Still, she keeps her knock light on the off chance that Archie, at least, has managed to sleep past the dawn]

[action, November 15, around 6am]

[captainhornblower]

[Horatio is already awake, though seated still in his chair by Archie's bed. Even the second night, he had stayed there. And he would stay there every night until Archie indicated any annoyance at his presence.

He heard the knock, considered ignoring it, but decided against that. So first he went to his room, grabbed the quill he'd found and tore a page from his plain journal. He wrote a small note. 'Either in the living room or right outside. Someone came over.'

He left the note by Archie's bed and finally went to the door. When he opened it, he nodded politely, taking a step back to let her in.] Miss Jilly. [Was it obvious he hadn't slept all that much? Probably so. Good luck getting him to admit that, though.]

Nov 14th--later in the evening--voice---weak filter

[all7seas]

[Takes place after this.]

Oi---Hornblower. You there?

[captainhornblower]

Sparrow.

[He's tired. He's very, very tired. But sleep is impossible, so he answers the message.]

January 20, around 10 PM | action

[simplestgift]

Archie has finished his post-work shower, complete with his monthly ritual of snipping an inch off the end of his hair. In shirt and trousers and unbuttoned waistcoat and still chafing his scalp with a towel, he knocks lightly on Horatio's bedroom door, whether or not it's open.]

[captainhornblower]

Come in.

[The house felt full again. It was a comforting feeling, really. Archie was always a comfort, of course. But with only two people... sometimes things were too quiet. Especially when he felt most at home on a ship full to bursting with men, a third or fourth of whom were always on watches, moving about.

With four, even if they tried to sleep the same hours, there was more of a sense of activity.

He was at his desk, writing in the journal Archie had gotten him for his birthday... over six months ago.]

[ Written / March 18th ]

[theblogger]

[ Someone was rushed when writing this note, if the odd angle and the way letters almost run together is any indication. ]

Cpt Hornblower,

Archie Kennedy said to contact. Had an accident. All fine, just need help to clinic.
Will start there anyway, frm 7th H. Come if available.

JW

[ Written / March 18th ]

[captainhornblower]

[Horatio doesn't even respond. There's no need and there's no time.

He's out the door the second he's done reading it.]

June 1 | Early Afternoon | Action

[seesmagic]

[Jilly didn't like to see people upset.

When Raylene had scraped her knee or been yelled at by their mother or pushed by one of their brothers, she'd cried...and Jilly would take her younger sister by the hand, lead her outside to the beautiful tree arching over their backyard, and tell her stories. Or she'd walk with her into town, with a handful of coins she'd managed to pick up off the sidewalk on her way to and from school, to buy her little sister a cup of chocolate milk.

Now, she didn't have coins or a large tree...and she wasn't sure Willow would want to go anywhere, anyway. But they had milk, back at the house. She just needed chocolate syrup.

Unfortunately for her, the bottle she wants is up on a shelf that's just a little too high for her to reach.

...She always was small for her age.

Brow furrowed, the would-be-artist stretched up on tip-toe, trying to get hold of the elusive chocolate]

[beforethesea]

[He watches her for several moments. They've met before, of course, but briefly, and, well.

Is it polite to approach a girl? Who he barely knows? In a place like this?

But... her parents aren't here and neither are his, so... Maybe?]

Wh-- whatcha tryin' t'get?

[action | July 13 | mid-morning]

[theoniongirl]

[It had been almost a month since the storm. A month since the Britannia's maiden voyage. A month since Jilly's first draft.

In that time, Jilly had been harder to pin down, but not in any really noticeable way. She was as lively as ever; paint-speckled and smiling and always in motion. She brought coffee and an extra set of hands to the various places around the village that were rebuilding. She spent hours painting in her studio, and hours at Cloud Nine. The same as always.

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth, either. She'd seen her share of ugliness on the streets...a war of a different sort. And, really, as far as what they could have faced, she'd seen only the mildest side of the fighting. But, for the past few weeks, familiar nightmares had been replaced by gaping wounds, clutching hands, and the scattering of the people she held dearest...both here and back home. This war might leave only temporary scars on the surface, but that didn't stop it from sinking deeper.

Hollom leaving had only added to the quiet weight that had settled under her skin. The solemn man had been a gentle boon in the house, sweet and steady and...innocent, even. He'd never let her near enough to get to truly know him, but she'd counted him as a friend.

And now he was gone. Like Bones, before. Like Guy.

Jilly could smile at the world and mean it but, sometimes, it was just too much at once.

She wasn't sure why. Jon's absence was no longer fresh. But the quiet of the kitchen that morning had driven her out of Seven and towards Jack's marauding bridge.

She wasn't really looking for company though, so once she was there she kicked off her shoes and hoisted herself up into the branches of one of the smaller trees. Soon, there was just a pair of abandoned boots to signal that the artist was perched up above, quiet and still among the branches.]

[captainhornblower]

[In some respects, Horatio Hornblower could appreciate that he was very fortunate.

Despite unknowingly sailing into a fierce storm with a mostly untried crew, there had been no casualities. No one had gone into the sea, even. Britannia emerged, batted but whole. The full repairs were still underway, but she would sail again.

The worst of the trouble in the village, too, was from the gale, not the Malnosso. He and his crew could have prevented little.

Jilly had returned safely from the battle the Malnosso had sent her into.

These were all things to be grateful for, and he thanked God for the good fortune.

Yet, he was aware of the distinct melancholy he was prone to. Here, it resembled a ind of homesickness. Not for England, really, or even Atropos.

He could not miss a ship he had never known or a wife he had never loved. But he longed for the familiarty. For "sir"s and salutes. For blue and red uniforms. for the Union Jack and the enemy tri-colour. For the truly open sea and the smell of powder.

He missed his life.

He had Archie here, yes. He would be forever happy for that. But Archie was to marry. Under ordinary circumstances, this would be cause for celebration. Yet his bride... a pirate. A captain and "pirate lord," by her own words. Archie clearly believed her oaths that she had done nothing unjust. But other women could lie with a sweet smile. A pirate, no doubt, was able to do it as well. And more. If she was honest about her lack of action? She still used the word, associated herself with all their crimes. A woman who called herself a pirate could not be trusted.

Walking the deck of Britannia only made him more keenly aware of what she still needed done, so the Navy captain had set out fo the bridge he had once used. It felt and sounded familiar enough under his feet without causing too much guilt.

Over and over, he walked the length and back.]

Action | July 21 | Evening

[simplestgift]

Archie ducks his head into Horatio's room.

"Horatio? I'm off to John's soon. I was thinking tonight we could take a couple bottles of brandy to the Britannia to celebrate and get piss-drunk."

[captainhornblower]

"At this rate, Mister Kennedy, a proper captain would bring you up on charges of drunkenness."

But even as he says it, Horatio is smiling a bit, getting to his feet at the invitation.

"However, it sounds like a fine idea."