Extreme Queueing
Two hours waiting outside on a cold February night to get into a museum might seem a little extreme to some but, well, it was a candlelit museum. We're not that crazy.
John Soane museum: It has a room for an imaginary friend and is in no way like the House on the Rock because (a) Soane was actually a good architect, (b) there were no carpeted walls/creepy dolls/rats and (c) the place didn't smell so cloyingly horrible you wanted to be sick. In conclusion, the wait was worth it to see this beautiful and fascinating collection in atmospheric candlelight, and now I sound like a tourist brochure.
Today, in my desperation, I resorted to reading Japanese Master and Commander fic, which was strange and unusual. cienna saw fit to curb this insanity by getting me to write her fic via text. My first, a Jim/Misha porn fic I decline to share with the wider internets, but the second, unsurprisingly, a Master and Commander piece I prettied up and extended and I present it here for your enjoyment.
Title: Between Scylla and Charybdis
Rating: G
Words: 937
Summary: Jack Aubrey/Stephen Maturin. Jack and Stephen talk sea monsters, and contemplate survial.
.Between Scylla and Charybdis.
With nothing else to occupy them, Jack told a story.
"There are great creatures," he said, "deep beneath the waves, that eat ships whole and leave no trace that they had ever existed, neither ship nor beast. The old hands call them Leviathan, but only very quietly and with their hands to wood, for it is mighty bad luck."
In this cold, run-down place propriety seemed a distant, incongruous thing, and Stephen shifted closer to Jack's side, to his warmth. It was enheartening to know neither of them were so far gone. Beside him, Jack responded in kind, pressing closer, draping an arm around Stephen's shoulders. Stephen would think of this, and not of the creeping lethargy, the hunger and thirst. He would try not to be too concerned by the way Jack grimaced with every movement, no matter how subtle, for worrying would do them no good. Instead, Stephen replied, "Is that not just a myth? A legend to frighten the midshipmen and hopeless lubber such as myself?"
Jack chuckled low, and Stephen resolved to make no comment at the way the laughter made Jack's breath hitch in pain. "You are not so hopeless, Stephen," he said affectionately. "We will make a naval man out of you yet."
Of all things, Stephen doubted this very much. Years had not yet changed so much that he could recognise the names of ropes from sails that tripped off the tongues of sailors as easy as a native language of their own.
Recognising his doubt, Jack shook his head. "As to those sea monsters, they are not stories. I have seen arms as tall as a mast and as wide as a man washed upon the shores of Ceram. Tough skinned, yellowed and quite horrible."
"I should like to have seen that," Stephen told Jack, wondering at the anatomy of a creature so large, considering how such a specimen could remain hidden from science. "It would have to reside in exceptionally deep waters," Stephen concluded. "Are you quite sure it was an arm? Was it squid-like? Octopus?"
"Octopus, I would say," Jack replied, looking down at Stephen with a bemused expression.
"We should endeavour to seek such a creature out." Stephen imagined all the things he could learn, all the discoveries. It would, he thought, be such a sad fate to die here having so many more things to see and know.
"Stephen, I would not want to find one, lest we become its dinner."
Jack wore a worried expression, quite serious, evidently convinced that Stephen would have him and his ship offered up as bait as soon as they were once again at sea.
"As to that," Stephen said, "Does it not seem a strange thing? To eat wooden ships? What sustenance could one possibly gain from it?"
"It is not, I think, for us to question the motivations of sea beasts." A shiver ran through Jack's body, and Stephen wished he had his medicine chest to ease his pain. He wished he had some means to help them survive this; they had no food, no warmth save each other, and outside their shelter the storm gave no sign of calming.
Here, though, in the half-light and close together, they had Jack's story.
Stephen raised his eyebrows. "If not us," he replied, "Then who?"
"Ah, Stephen," Jack smiled, and Stephen wondered at his friend's joviality even now; such a defining character of Jack Aubrey, an aspect that had served many times to give Stephen hope or joy. "How could I ever imagine you would think anything of a sea monster beyond its science or its philosophy. Most men would fear it."
"If it exists," Stephen said, "Then it is as much a creature of nature as we are. What is there to fear in that?"
"It exists," Jack assured him. "I would fear for my ship."
"You always fear for your ship," and Stephen laughed softly, because it was the truth.
Carefully, slowly, Jack drew his legs up to his chest. He was frowning in consternation and Stephen patted his knee reassuringly.
"My dear, I mean no offence. You are a fine Captain; of course you care for your ship." This too was the truth.
Jack grumbled, but looked somewhat mollified. Uncomfortable too, and Stephen sympathised; the floor was hard and cold and both of them were bruised and tired. So very tired.
"Then," Jack said, "You won't ask me find you some giant sea monster? When we are back at sea?"
When they were back at sea. That was a thing Stephen could wish for, something he could pray for when the light finally faded and there was a long night of snow and ice ahead of them, the wind rattling the shutters and the door could only get worse, and the temperature could only fall. Stephen knew how much the human body could take, and he knew that there were miracles, and he knew Jack's strength and his own pertinacious nature. There would be no rescue; their escape, their survival was their own affair.
For the first time, Stephen thought how strange it was that the ground beneath him was still. There was no familiar roll and pitch, nor creak, nor clatter, nor calls. Perhaps, he thought, Jack had made a naval man out of him already.
"When we are once again at sea," Stephen promised, "I won't ask it of you."
He let his head fall to Jack's shoulder, felt Jack angle himself closer too, and fell into sleep dreaming of calm, clear waters and Jack Aubrey smiling at him and was content.
.End.
Comments and concrit are most welcome and much loved.
John Soane museum: It has a room for an imaginary friend and is in no way like the House on the Rock because (a) Soane was actually a good architect, (b) there were no carpeted walls/creepy dolls/rats and (c) the place didn't smell so cloyingly horrible you wanted to be sick. In conclusion, the wait was worth it to see this beautiful and fascinating collection in atmospheric candlelight, and now I sound like a tourist brochure.
Today, in my desperation, I resorted to reading Japanese Master and Commander fic, which was strange and unusual. cienna saw fit to curb this insanity by getting me to write her fic via text. My first, a Jim/Misha porn fic I decline to share with the wider internets, but the second, unsurprisingly, a Master and Commander piece I prettied up and extended and I present it here for your enjoyment.
Title: Between Scylla and Charybdis
Rating: G
Words: 937
Summary: Jack Aubrey/Stephen Maturin. Jack and Stephen talk sea monsters, and contemplate survial.
.Between Scylla and Charybdis.
With nothing else to occupy them, Jack told a story.
"There are great creatures," he said, "deep beneath the waves, that eat ships whole and leave no trace that they had ever existed, neither ship nor beast. The old hands call them Leviathan, but only very quietly and with their hands to wood, for it is mighty bad luck."
In this cold, run-down place propriety seemed a distant, incongruous thing, and Stephen shifted closer to Jack's side, to his warmth. It was enheartening to know neither of them were so far gone. Beside him, Jack responded in kind, pressing closer, draping an arm around Stephen's shoulders. Stephen would think of this, and not of the creeping lethargy, the hunger and thirst. He would try not to be too concerned by the way Jack grimaced with every movement, no matter how subtle, for worrying would do them no good. Instead, Stephen replied, "Is that not just a myth? A legend to frighten the midshipmen and hopeless lubber such as myself?"
Jack chuckled low, and Stephen resolved to make no comment at the way the laughter made Jack's breath hitch in pain. "You are not so hopeless, Stephen," he said affectionately. "We will make a naval man out of you yet."
Of all things, Stephen doubted this very much. Years had not yet changed so much that he could recognise the names of ropes from sails that tripped off the tongues of sailors as easy as a native language of their own.
Recognising his doubt, Jack shook his head. "As to those sea monsters, they are not stories. I have seen arms as tall as a mast and as wide as a man washed upon the shores of Ceram. Tough skinned, yellowed and quite horrible."
"I should like to have seen that," Stephen told Jack, wondering at the anatomy of a creature so large, considering how such a specimen could remain hidden from science. "It would have to reside in exceptionally deep waters," Stephen concluded. "Are you quite sure it was an arm? Was it squid-like? Octopus?"
"Octopus, I would say," Jack replied, looking down at Stephen with a bemused expression.
"We should endeavour to seek such a creature out." Stephen imagined all the things he could learn, all the discoveries. It would, he thought, be such a sad fate to die here having so many more things to see and know.
"Stephen, I would not want to find one, lest we become its dinner."
Jack wore a worried expression, quite serious, evidently convinced that Stephen would have him and his ship offered up as bait as soon as they were once again at sea.
"As to that," Stephen said, "Does it not seem a strange thing? To eat wooden ships? What sustenance could one possibly gain from it?"
"It is not, I think, for us to question the motivations of sea beasts." A shiver ran through Jack's body, and Stephen wished he had his medicine chest to ease his pain. He wished he had some means to help them survive this; they had no food, no warmth save each other, and outside their shelter the storm gave no sign of calming.
Here, though, in the half-light and close together, they had Jack's story.
Stephen raised his eyebrows. "If not us," he replied, "Then who?"
"Ah, Stephen," Jack smiled, and Stephen wondered at his friend's joviality even now; such a defining character of Jack Aubrey, an aspect that had served many times to give Stephen hope or joy. "How could I ever imagine you would think anything of a sea monster beyond its science or its philosophy. Most men would fear it."
"If it exists," Stephen said, "Then it is as much a creature of nature as we are. What is there to fear in that?"
"It exists," Jack assured him. "I would fear for my ship."
"You always fear for your ship," and Stephen laughed softly, because it was the truth.
Carefully, slowly, Jack drew his legs up to his chest. He was frowning in consternation and Stephen patted his knee reassuringly.
"My dear, I mean no offence. You are a fine Captain; of course you care for your ship." This too was the truth.
Jack grumbled, but looked somewhat mollified. Uncomfortable too, and Stephen sympathised; the floor was hard and cold and both of them were bruised and tired. So very tired.
"Then," Jack said, "You won't ask me find you some giant sea monster? When we are back at sea?"
When they were back at sea. That was a thing Stephen could wish for, something he could pray for when the light finally faded and there was a long night of snow and ice ahead of them, the wind rattling the shutters and the door could only get worse, and the temperature could only fall. Stephen knew how much the human body could take, and he knew that there were miracles, and he knew Jack's strength and his own pertinacious nature. There would be no rescue; their escape, their survival was their own affair.
For the first time, Stephen thought how strange it was that the ground beneath him was still. There was no familiar roll and pitch, nor creak, nor clatter, nor calls. Perhaps, he thought, Jack had made a naval man out of him already.
"When we are once again at sea," Stephen promised, "I won't ask it of you."
He let his head fall to Jack's shoulder, felt Jack angle himself closer too, and fell into sleep dreaming of calm, clear waters and Jack Aubrey smiling at him and was content.
.End.
Comments and concrit are most welcome and much loved.