Admiral James Norrington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
abidinglaw) wrote2011-05-10 04:50 pm
abidinglaw) wrote2011-05-10 04:50 pm
Alone on a wide wide sea.
[For some time now one node on the Journal network has been broadcasting an anonymous patch of sky broken only occasionally by the pacing back and forth of a quaking, sea-soaked man. His hair is matted and bedraggled, his arms are wrapped around his shoulders to conserve what little warmth he has. Occasionally there are sounds of a voice straining in physical exertion or cursing, or joyous laughter. Otherwise the sea dominates the audible side of the broadcast. Lapping, crashing, rushing water, rhythmic as a heart beat.
More rarely still, the man sits in the sand with the book at his feet, flicking through and reading. Throughout the day he makes his way through the guide, a selection of entries, a smattering of all that the curious book has to offer. It is a work of fiction, he knows this, but it is evidence of human life. It is a distraction from the cold.
By chance, however much he deviates, his journal always eventually ends up on the page required to broadcast video. It is by chance, too, that the journal picks up a selection of his musings - decisions on which tree along the beach would make the most suitable shelter, theories on the subject of nautical headings and snatches of naval protocol.
It is around mid-day that he addresses the journal directly. Sitting again with the book at his feet, he speaks out of a desire to hear the steady, authoritative tone of a voice in control.]
It was under the section on communication.. yes.. 'If you are reading this, then you have already discovered the journals.' Now, some superstitious nonsense, but ... Ah yes, 'if you want to set up meetings, pass a greeting or call for help.' Here we are. Now... No. As I expected. Nothing more than a string of ridiculous fantasies. Damn.
ooc: SO! Hi! Grab his attention at any time in his rambling failed-fire-building beach-stranding antics, or later at the bar post-retrieval. It's all fair game as far as I'm concerned.]
More rarely still, the man sits in the sand with the book at his feet, flicking through and reading. Throughout the day he makes his way through the guide, a selection of entries, a smattering of all that the curious book has to offer. It is a work of fiction, he knows this, but it is evidence of human life. It is a distraction from the cold.
By chance, however much he deviates, his journal always eventually ends up on the page required to broadcast video. It is by chance, too, that the journal picks up a selection of his musings - decisions on which tree along the beach would make the most suitable shelter, theories on the subject of nautical headings and snatches of naval protocol.
It is around mid-day that he addresses the journal directly. Sitting again with the book at his feet, he speaks out of a desire to hear the steady, authoritative tone of a voice in control.]
It was under the section on communication.. yes.. 'If you are reading this, then you have already discovered the journals.' Now, some superstitious nonsense, but ... Ah yes, 'if you want to set up meetings, pass a greeting or call for help.' Here we are. Now... No. As I expected. Nothing more than a string of ridiculous fantasies. Damn.
ooc: SO! Hi! Grab his attention at any time in his rambling failed-fire-building beach-stranding antics, or later at the bar post-retrieval. It's all fair game as far as I'm concerned.]
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[ and with that quip, she has glasses to go and...clean. or something. possibly. anything to extract herself from conversation with this incredibly dull new feather. ]
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Believing himself steeled against her irreverence he takes a seat for the sake of convenience and waits for the attention of the blonde girl.]
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Another? Or are you just about all sherried out?
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[He'll not lower his guard too much this time.]
Please.
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[ DON'T WORRY NORRY, she isn't serving you cooking sherry. she just doesn't know the difference. but another glass is poured. ] I get that being stuck here sucks but it usually takes a few days for most rookies to hit the drink it all away stage.
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[Another slight narrowing of his eyebrows. Is this an attempt at empathy?]
There is no danger.
[If so, perhaps he should try to match her tone.]
Let's give it a few more days.
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And I have nothing to trade.
[Because although he knows that the things of life are free in Luceti, services must surely carry a cost of some kind.]
I shall not sleep tonight - but no matter. I had intended to put myself into honest employment tomorrow morning. To that end I have been writing an advertisement to post up on the journal. If no-one has need of me then I will have to find another way.
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[ the employment matter is a whole other issue that she won't tackle yet. ] Look, I can give you directions to an empty apartment. Okay?
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Empty, perhaps, but who owns it?
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[ she reaches for her purse beneath the counter. there should be some scraps of paper in it. ]
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[Stubborn girl. She'd likely try to force it on him if he turned it down.]
Where is this apartment?
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[ she sketches out a pretty horrible, clumsy map.
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[Laboring the point? Maybe, but he has to be sure.]
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[ which she is certain you will never do, norrington. because you are exceptionally horrible to even serve alcohol to. ]
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[Oh forget it.]
Thank you. You are a credit to your establishment -- I shall be sure to return here again.
[And honour you with his presence.]
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And if we were actually making any money off of this, I'd -- I dunno -- thank you for your patronage.
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