[The flame inside the lantern is flickering fast, objecting to the chill in the air. Outside, the fence's flickering has become increasingly erratic
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[Elizabeth has been patrolling the hallways, her lantern clasped firmly in one hand, her bottle of rum, now near a quarter empty, in the other. She's been humming sea-faring tunes of old and folk songs she's only been reacquainted with in the past few years.
The voice of Sao Feng seems dissuaded by neither music nor liquor, but she keeps a tune on her tongue and her palate wet, hoping desperately that he will loose his grasp on the air she breathes.
It's thick, visceral, this feeling. Her body has not begun to careen, yet the air about her seems to move, as though she's walking in some sort of whirlpool breeze, smokey and menacing.
When she round into the common room, she watches Helga spin around, struggling against a grasp that isn't there. Dropping the rum away from her lips, she sighs and walks forward, carefully.]
[She smiles faintly, but it disappears within seconds.]
Nor is it mine.
It's simply unnerving. It seems no amount of rum nor jaunty tune will dispel... this man from whispering in my ears.
Another man who is dead. [She laughs, a quick throaty thing with no mirth.] Though, this time I'm certain he has not come back from being so. Unlike our Mister Norrington.
[ Like any good cat, Amelia could only hole herself up in her office for so long, until she was called upon. Huge eyes had hidden numerous explosions and crew casualties the past few days, and she'd been certain she'd become a stronger woman because of it. She brought her belongings (however little they were.) down to the common room, quiet, solitary as usual. ]
[Even he knows better by now to ask her if she's "all right". She's not. Nobody is at this point. Instead he asks something a bit more...general, pulling his own coat closer.]
Pretty chilly right now, huh. [He clears his throat and eyes the sleeping bags lining the floor.] Do we have enough for everyone?
And getting colder every minute. [But something about her tone is... almost off. It lacks drive, and there's a kind of exhaustion that even her earlier panic didn't have.
She's tense, but it's not with the urge to do something. Exhaustion and paranoia, she can deal with. But this... this... hunted feeling. It's getting the better of her.]
No.
But if we open them, spread them out. Two to a bag, then the covers on top of that. I think we might then.
[At least she could think.
It wasn't like before, when her panic overrode everything.]
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The voice of Sao Feng seems dissuaded by neither music nor liquor, but she keeps a tune on her tongue and her palate wet, hoping desperately that he will loose his grasp on the air she breathes.
二奶! 孬種! 洋鬼子!
(Translation: Concubine! Useless/coward! Foreign Devil!)
It's thick, visceral, this feeling. Her body has not begun to careen, yet the air about her seems to move, as though she's walking in some sort of whirlpool breeze, smokey and menacing.
When she round into the common room, she watches Helga spin around, struggling against a grasp that isn't there. Dropping the rum away from her lips, she sighs and walks forward, carefully.]
You as well, then?
[ 神經病...
(Translation: Madness...)]
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Yes.
It isn't the first time.
[She's been hearing things since the the first.
It was different, early on. Different memories, a different voice. But this one has stuck around, ever since the first stopped.
This time, though, with the Mist so close and so thick, it's worse than usual.]
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Nor is it mine.
It's simply unnerving. It seems no amount of rum nor jaunty tune will dispel... this man from whispering in my ears.
Another man who is dead. [She laughs, a quick throaty thing with no mirth.] Though, this time I'm certain he has not come back from being so. Unlike our Mister Norrington.
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[There's nothing else that needs to be said. Like Elizabeth, she knows he isn't back. Just there.]
Starts as a whisper in the back of your mind, louder and clearer every time.
Until you can feel him, standing behind you. A hand reaching...
[For a moment, one of her gloved hands raises, fingers feeling her throat.]
Touching.
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Lieutenant.
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Another time, another life.
But when she looks at the woman, she manages a brief nod.]
Captain.
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[ As she did consider Helga's strength to far surpass her own. ]
Why am I not surprised.
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Not quite on our knees yet, are we?
Looks to me like we're both still standing.
[If only just.]
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Helga.
[He's holding her coat in his other hand. With an uncertain smile that seems a bit closer to a grimace, he offers it to her.]
Y-your jacket?
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Slowly, though, she seems to come out of it and nods slightly.]
Ah... Thank you, Mr. Thatch...
[She runs her hand slightly across her face, closing her eyes briefly before she takes the coat and slips it on, pulling it tight around her.]
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Pretty chilly right now, huh. [He clears his throat and eyes the sleeping bags lining the floor.] Do we have enough for everyone?
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She's tense, but it's not with the urge to do something. Exhaustion and paranoia, she can deal with. But this... this... hunted feeling. It's getting the better of her.]
No.
But if we open them, spread them out. Two to a bag, then the covers on top of that. I think we might then.
[At least she could think.
It wasn't like before, when her panic overrode everything.]
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