(Untitled)

[whatistheremore]

DATE: November 14th, evening
CHARACTER(S): Everyone!
SUMMARY: The sun has set, the wagons are circled, and there are campfires.
LOCATION: On the trail! A few days' travel outside Independence.
FORMAT: Action or prose, whichever you feel like

Comments

[whatistheremore]

Horatio Hornblower, for his part, is sitting some distance away from the fire and the people. He has a lantern and is using one of the crates of food as a makeshift table. Both an arrow compass and a mathematical compass are out. The former rested on one corner of the map, both to hold it down and for consultation. The other compass is in Hornblower's right hand, held carefully between long, thin figures.

He is, with steady movements from his less-skilled left hand, marking off distances... and then consulting a list of the supplies his wagon party bought. Rationing what they have, making note of where they can buy more, carefully calculating how much money they have all together and how much supplies are likely to cost as they get further and further from the main towns. Those supplies will be greatly needed... and they can be charged for accordingly.

[practiced]

There is still stew left in shipman Hollom's pot when Sansa first notices Captain Horatio going through figures at a distance. She does not pretend to know or understand what precisely he is pouring over and, Sansa imagines, it is not her place to know - though, truly, there is a spark of curiosity.

First, she finishes with her sewing. Then, she eats and goes through the paces of making sure her companions have done as well. Then, she cleans her bowl (a tedious, much disliked task) and portions herself out another helping.

It's this second helping that she brings to Captain Horatio, pausing a respectful distance away to curtsey. "Captain," she says politely in greeting as she bows.

[whatistheremore]

Hornblower looks up at the voice, irritated for a moment at having been disturbed. Then, however, he sees the young woman and rises to his feet. He bows politely after setting down his compass and reaches up to-- to touch the hat he's laid on the ground. Still, the gesture stands.

"Your Ladyship."

[practiced]

No one pays Sansa more dutiful respect and acknowledgment of title the way Captain Horatio does. She is both humbled by it and encouraged, and each time he greets her she can feel her back straighten and her chin tip. Yes, she thinks whenever Captain Horatio addresses her. I am a lady, quite. Her smile is not warm nor familiar, but it is kind and gracious.

With both hands she holds out the bowl, bringing his attention to it.

"The night grows late and so many of the others have already gone to sup. If it is no great interruption, I bid you please eat, good sir."

Open to All

[modernholmes]

Shinichi had quickly and capably built a small fire near his own wagon. That much he found simple. The question of how to cook the food he had purchased for the trip was another matter altogether. He stares at the small pot and the stew ingredients with a perplexed expression. Now how had Ran always started this?

[purrfectlolcat]

Nepeta noticed his discomfort with his food preparation and, while she was not very well-versed in cooking herself, she could not pass up the opportunity -- or oppurrtunity -- to assist! She wanders up to Shinichi with a curious and eager expression, leaning over him and his small pot.

"What are you doing?" she asks, eyes wide with interest.

[modernholmes]

He glances over at her with a faint smile. "Cooking, hopefully. The available supplies seemed rather low in ready-made food."

[purrfectlolcat]

The concept of ready-made food is not one that Nepeta is familiar with, but she nods in agreement regardless. Then she's looking even more curious, settling back on her heels and crossing her arms over her chest.

"You are not just going to hunt beasts?" she asks, her tone suggesting such a thing is completely normal.

[accusedjonah]

[Smell that? It's stew. Lovely, lovely stew. Fresh beef, fresh vegetables, fresh water. And over a little fire to the side of the main one, a kettle is heating for tea.

He even has some whiskey to fortify it.

Hollom is more than aware that there's too much stew for his wagon mates and him to eat on their own, but that is rather the point of stew. At least he feels so. To have plenty for a large group of men-- of people. Like a ship's crew. Or a collection of strangers who might want something warm on a cold night.

He ladles out a bit into the bowl he's holding, tests it with his spoon, and nods. That will do quite nicely.

A glance to the man standing watch not far away, and he lets himself smile while the man's back is turned. The expression is gone before he says anything.]

Mister Pullings?

[Navy tradition demands he offer the first serving to his superior officer. Then to the lady of high breeding he has agreed to watch out for, then others in turn.

There's plenty for anyone who wants it.]

[yokoonomuch]

[ Annie's been feeling grubby since the moment they left Independence, basically. There's dirt in her hair and under her nails and a little spot at the back of her neck that somehow keeps getting dirty against all odds. She's a total city girl, and she knows it, but she's been trying to keep a positive attitude about everything.

That's hard when she's hungry. She's been trying to clean up the wagon ever since they stopped for the night, but the smell of the stew, once it wafts inside, is enough to draw her out. She knows the man from the wagon, though they haven't had much time to talk, so she feels less bad as she creeps up behind him. ]

Nope, just Annie! [ she says, hoping not to startle him. ] That smells really good.

[accusedjonah]

[Hollom might have-- He did jump a bit at the sudden voice behind him, but he still smiled as he turned to see her. He ducked his head politely, setting aside the bowl he'd portioned out to take up another and fill.

Then, it's offered to her.]

Please, Miss Annie. Have some.

[yokoonomuch]

[ Annie tries not to reach for the bowl to eagerly but in the end, she doesn't succeed and snatches it with a a quick Thanks! She doesn't want to look like a pig, but a girl does have to eat. Lifting the spoon to her lips and blows over it. ]

It's really nice of you to make enough for everyone. Thoughtful!

OPEN TO ALL

[deusextaserina]

Darcy had had the highest of priorities when they left the town, and there for has a few bottles of whiskey planted on the ground next to her as she slumped in front of the fire. Not for her own consumption this time, she'd discovered almost on day one that she did not handle hangovers sans near prescription level painkillers well, but more of a welcome gift to anyone who wants to come and say hi. Much like college, she was willing to bet a free shot did wonders for winning over a little goodwill.

[accusedjonah]

"Excuse me, Miss." The words are quietly spoken, soft enough. He knows this woman. Not by name, but he remembers her from the shooting lesson. Mister Pullings had been showing her how to use a rifle.

In his hands is a bowl of soup, still steaming. "Would you like something to eat?

[deusextaserina]

"Awesomesauce."

Darcy reaches for the bowl with a grin, relieved beyond anything that she doesn't have to go any try and cook now. Or try to blackmail Jane into it. She could remember this guy, both from the lessons and from over the 'internet.'

"Thanks. You're...the preacher guy, right?"

[accusedjonah]

"Jonathan Hollom, ma'am," he said, ducking his head slightly. "Midshipman. I'm... I'm no pastor, I'm afraid. Not really."

( OPEN, yo )

[practiced]

The days are cool and the nights, chill, so there is naught to do but sit by the fire once the sun has begun to drop low enough to touch the horizon. Sansa has a shawl, of course, and underskirts as well, but these things had been meant for southern climes and not November's reaches. But, she is a child of the North and a Stark besides and oftimes too proud to allow herself a shiver, no matter how much gooseflesh raises itself up and down her thin arms. When the time comes and the wagons circle, she places herself by the edge of the fire, her skirts gathered around her in soft billow of blue silk, one of shipman Hollom's shirts in her lap as she goes about mending a well-worn seam.

When a stranger approaches or walks past, she makes sure to look up and offer a small nod, greeting those she recognizes by name - as is appropriate for a young lady to do.

Sansa watches and listens and sews, and in watching and listening, learns what she can about those around her.

/bugs you forever

[accusedjonah]

After serving his commanding officer, Hollom approaches the young woman with two things. The first is a bowl of soup. The second, draped over his arm, is his dark blue, wool coat.

"Miss Sansa." The words are soft, gentle, and he smiles a little. "Would you like something to eat?"

He'll offer the coat after. There are winter coats packed away in the wagon, no doubt a necessary supply, but if they can avoid using those now, all the better.

i was totally like...CAN I TAG HOLLOM AGAIN???

[practiced]

Most people warrant only a nod from Sansa, her skirts too settled and her legs too warm to earn a proper curtsey. When shipman Hollom approaches, however, she sets aside her needle and thread to stand and offers him one of her more gracious bows. (His oath meant he was to serve her and not the other way around, and true the man was a craven, but that did not mean that Sansa had no gratitude towards him.)

"Shipman Hollom," she says, echoing his smile (his gentleness is always welcome, especially on such a rough road). "You have worked wonders over the fire, no doubt. The camp grumbles with both stomach and breath, having to sit and feign patience as they smell your handiwork simmer."

ALWAYS.

[accusedjonah]

He bows politely at her curtsey and sets the bowl down near her. "I have cooked very little in several years, so it may be best to taste it first before you praise it." Yet, even as he says it, his smile grows a bit. On a ship, there is a cook, and the captain has his steward.

To be able to offer something to this strange collection moving forward on the trail was a relief.

Then, gently, "Are you cold?" He moves the arm over which is coat is draped. "I've no need of it myself. Not at present."