(Untitled)

[accusedjonah]

DATE: December 1st, night [backdated]
CHARACTER(S): Jonathan Hollom and OPEN
SUMMARY: The wagons are circled, watches are being kept, and one man is greatly disturbed.
LOCATION: Around the campfire.
WARNINGS: Sad, sad little mouse inside.
FORMAT: Whichever.

Comments

angst. not on this boat - i mean wagon.

[willturntides]

Tom is not off watch but he doesn't want to let Jon get cold. Or anyone for that matter. And he's not close to the fire. So here, Jon, have a blanket from inside.

"Thought you might be cold."

It's definitely not one of your own though.

And he seems to think that taking up his post anew next to the former midshipmen.

[accusedjonah]

Hollom looked up at the voice. For a moment, he seemed startled. He hadn't worn a look like that since he'd first seen Pullings in Independence and had seemed worried he'd be scolded for not being at his station. When the words registered, he nodded his head once politely.

"Thank you, sir, but I'm fine."

He watched as the man remained and swallowed hard. How long before he said something? Before Pullings referenced the misfortunes of the wagon party and made it clear he knew exactly who was to blame? Not long, Hollom was sure. He had to know. Everyone on Surprise had known.

...Even Captain Aubrey had known...

[willturntides]

Tom glances over at him now and then. He was still on watch after all.

"Very well. No harm in keeping it though."

He was going to get to the bottom of your ... mood, Jon. One way or another. He hadn't yet made the connection but he did remember seeing you dart about the ship with a similar look about you before....

Before they got their wind back.

"That bear is going to last us a good long while."

[accusedjonah]

"It should, yes, sir."

Speak when spoken to, answer what was said, offer nothing more. Those were the unwritten rules that a midshipman learned to surviving life with superiors. Particularly those who considered them nothing more than a burden... And Hollom knew that was what he was.

He kept his eyes down, his gaze no longer rising to meet Tom's, as it had begun to do during the last week or so.

[willturntides]

He's quiet for some time. Staring out at the landscape, debating even speaking

[accusedjonah]

"Yes, sir. If you think that's best, sir."

Routine. Automatic.

The paranoid sailors with their witch-hunt had left a mark on Hollom, had shaken him to his core. His dead gun crew, Warley, the Acheron and her surprises, the stilling of the wind... And that was only on the Surprise. The latest ship to be beset by woe when he came aboard.

How long would he be tolerated? Would it take two months, as it had on the Surprise, for the connections to be made and the whispers to start? Or would these events spur it?

...If others from his ship were here, everyone would know already, and he would have been left behind long ago. Or worse. Perhaps that would have been for the better...

[willturntides]

The tone was easily recognizable as one would hear on deck in the middle of pursuit. Quick, unthinking besides conformation. Tom shrugged lackadaisically.

"That choice is yours Jon, not mine. I didn't kill it."

[accusedjonah]

"It's well with me, sir." He thought for a moment, remembered seeing Sansa at her sewing more than once as they travelled. "You might ask Miss Sansa, sir. See if she'd like it for anything first, sir."

And it was just that-- a suggestion. That Tom ask if it had any further purpose. It was not his place, his voice seemed to say. It was the place of a senior officer. Even though a few days ago, he'd laughed with this man over the idea of naming the goat they brought along after one of the stubborn young midshipmen on the Surprise.

Whatever humour Hollom had shown then seemed to have fled.

[willturntides]

"Ah, there's a good idea." He nodded his head firmly. His eye passed over Hollom once more and his finger tapped against his thigh before he took another breath to speak, as if what he was going to say had some weight. Tom Pullings was not known for his vast patience.

"Hollom -," ugh. This was more difficult than he anticipated.

[accusedjonah]

There was something to be asked. He knew that to beg any sort of favour from a superior was selfish, but there was one promise he needed from Tom. One thing the man had to swear to him...

But his name made the words die in his throat. "Yes, sir?"

[willturntides]

This was a stupid question. He was acting prematurely, in haste. "Are you alright?"

Stupid question. As if Hollom would even answer him with anything more than a 'Yes, sir' 'no, sir.' What was he expecting, honestly?

[accusedjonah]

"Yes, sir."

He waited for a moment, considered the night's darkness before him. Then, quietly, carefully, he ventured, "Sir? Might I-- might I ask a favour, sir?"

[willturntides]

"What is it?"

[accusedjonah]

"It's... about Miss Sansa."

He didn't dare look at Pullings. He felt the weight of his words but knew that it would mean little to his superior. But he needed to know that she would be safe, whatever came.

"I... promised to protect her. If... if anything happens to me, sir... May I trust that... that you will keep her safe, sir?"

[willturntides]

"Nothing will happen to you, Jon." He sounded hard, as if this was already a concrete certainty in his mind. And it was. He wouldn't let anything happen to him. Not again.

[accusedjonah]

"No, sir," Hollom answered quietly.

Even with those words, though, he could not let the matter drop. "But anything might happen, sir. Especially here. In this... strange place. If... If something did, sir..."