Open Log: Big Blue Wet Thing

[goingtobeunwell]

Terrors waking that morning will find a few things amiss with the ship: 1. it's hot and humid inside their cabins, and 2. the ship itself is rocking.  Swaying, in fact, as though the ice beneath them has melted and the ship is moving. Which it is, actually, and quite quickly too. 

The holes in the side of Terror have been repaired, the rigging put up on the masts, the dual wheels of the helm moving as the ship races through the waves on its own. Up above the sun is shining brightly. 
H.M.S. Terror is sailing once more, destination unknown.

Comments

[goingtobeunwell]

"I quite enjoyed the weather on the peninsula. Portugal was always very fair." That part of the Atlantic was still familiar, but the warmth supplied by the Mediterranean always reminded him of that first push into longer journeys.

He props himself a little taller. "I think this weather won't be tamed, old boy. Best to focus your magic on conjuring up some cool water or fresh linens."

[kingsroads]

Strange can't help but shake his head a little, obviously judging Crozier on his choice of weather. "Portugal was far too hot," he interjects, with a little smile.

That smile only grows larger as Crozier talks about conjuring fresh linens. There's a grin on Strange's face like he's privy to an inside joke that the captain hasn't heard. "You know, the first act of magic performed by my friend and mentor, Gilbert Norrell, during the revival of English magic was a spell to make stone statues in York Minster speak. Somehow, the news of the spell got changed along the way so by the time he reached London, the general consensus was that the first great act of English magic was Norrell cleaning the linens of all the Yorkshire housewives."

It's a fact that Strange is very charmed by. "Perhaps I will take inspiration from those rumors and craft a laundry spell myself!"

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier seems equally as charmed by the story. He laughs quietly at the thought -- gossip, it seems, remains the same ineffective transmitter of news throughout the ages. "He must have been apoplectic! Though I'm sure the housewives of Yorkshire were vexed that their linens remained soiled despite the miracle."

He shakes his head. "Perhaps dream a little bigger, old man."

[kingsroads]

"And what sort of bigger do you suggest I start with, captain?" Because if there's one thing Strange adores, it's finding a challenge and finding a way to use his magic to surpass it.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier scoffs. "More than laundry, surely. I saw what you did with the sand and the ship that had run aground. Perhaps you could devise a way to keep the sails filled with wind -- or our propeller turning. Or help us find new landmarks. I suspect we may yet discover land out in this vast sea."

[kingsroads]

Strange frowns a moment, obviously a little confused. "How the devil did you—oh, right. The dreams." Because as far as he knows, Crozier shouldn't have actually seen Strange uprighting the ship that ran aground on Horse Sand. But if he saw it in his dreams, that actually made some sense.

Privately, Strange hopes that Crozier's dreams stick to those earlier, more impressive acts of magic and not some of the portions of his life he's a little ashamed about.

"How are they, by the way?"

[goingtobeunwell]

"Constant," Crozier replies with a scowl. "But quieter as of late." And repeating, with the exception of a few new memories here or there. He had been given that particular memory belonging to Strange, and another of Anna's, with brief glimpses into Shaun and Harry's pasts. He thought he dreamed of Sheehan on a steam-powered ship, but that had been too brief.

And then there was the tuunbaq.

"Nothing of this though," he says, gesturing to the open sea. "Which is frustrating. It would have been nice to have been alerted before we spent all that damn time preparing the ship and supplies."

[kingsroads]

"If you wish, we can take advantage of the quiet and work on you crafting your magic. I have a few theories on how you could manipulate the dreams, guiding them so you could focus on a particular person or a particular event."

Because Crozier's right: it is a little frustrating for them to spend their time coming up with ideas and working on ship repairs while trying to take into account the nature of the ice but whoops, now we're on the water.

[goingtobeunwell]

It occurs to Crozier that he hasn't been able to speak with his friend since the arrival of Sabriel and McGonagall. "There are other magicians now who actually have talent in that regard," he remarks. "You should spend your time with them, not some old sailor cursed with vivid dreams."

Strange would be far happier that way.

[kingsroads]

Strange gives Crozier a frown that pretty blatantly implies he thinks the captain's a goddamn idiot.

"There are three inaccuracies with that statement. One, if you persist on calling me 'old man', you aren't allowed to call yourself old either. Two, I have plenty of talent with regard to dreams," says the man who has admitted once before that dreams weren't his specialty but is arrogant enough to think that he knows entirely what he's doing.

"And three, you are my dear friend. Of course I'm going to help you if I have the opportunity to do so."

[goingtobeunwell]

He stares back at him, blinking a few times as a smile spreads across his face.

"What, you don't like the nickname, old boy?"

[kingsroads]

Strange's expression shifts back to a grin as he sees Crozier smile.

"I never said that I didn't. Only that it's hypocritical for you to call yourself old, you...you child!"

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier lets out a loud cackle, pushing at Strange's shoulder playfully with his hand.

"Fine, fine, you wore me down. You can help me. But I think you're putting far too much faith into my so-called abilities."

[kingsroads]

"And I think you're not putting enough faith! You have the potential to be a great magician, Crozier. I don't know why you refuse to accept it."

Strange's words are entirely serious. In his mind, Crozier is nothing but magical potential that he wants to help nurture.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier regards him seriously for a moment. Gradually his smile fades, turning something almost distant.

"I'm a fifty two years old, Jonathan. I'm Irish, middle-bred. The Church of England gives me hives and I have no ear or taste for politics. I've never been given my own command. I've never been married. I'm not a great anything, let alone magician. All that I am is a fluke."

He lets Sophia's words linger in his head for another moment longer. "I lost almost all my men, and my ship pilots herself."

[kingsroads]

The use of his first name catches Strange by surprise. He stays silent as he listens to Crozier's explanation. Strange's expression shifts to a much softer smile as he fixes his gaze on Crozier.

"I am of the opinion that a man does not have to move mountains or command an entire army to be great. Sometimes a great man can be one who simply continues on and tries his best under challenging circumstances. Sometimes those circumstances involve holding together a motley crew, striving against insurmountable odds, or venturing forth into a London they know nothing about to rescue a mad magician from his own thoughts.

You are great, Francis. And as long as I am the Terror's magician—as long as I am your magician, I refuse to let you speak about yourself that way."

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier isn't searching to be bolstered up or to be given compliments until his face is red and the tears are back in his eyes, but that's what Strange gives to him nonetheless. He turns away, mouth and jaw tightening as he considers the kindness of the magician's words.

He runs his hand down his face with a soft laugh. "Ah, old boy. I don't do quite as well as I think at concealing myself. And that a man such as yourself, who commands wind and ice and walks faerie realms, thinks so highly of me...I am grateful to call you my magician."

[kingsroads]

Strange reaches over to clap a hand on Crozier's shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat as he continues talking.

"It's silly to define me by my achievements—especially since once we conquer your dreams, commanding the ice is precisely what I intend to teach you next."

[goingtobeunwell]

"So long as you're not too disappointed when all I can do is dream," he sighs. "I can command ice in a much more scientific way. I'm no ice master..."

He trails off. Ice Master. What was his name?

Ah, never mind then.

"I'm no ice master but I can read it well enough."

[kingsroads]

Strange, having only the faintest idea about what an ice master actually is, doesn't press Crozier's hesitation.

"And that should precisely give you an advantage with the ice! When I first arrived in the Arctic, I found the ice incredibly difficult to work with. Even now, I have to admit my magic revolving around the Arctic has less finesse than I'd like. Whereas you already know the landscape backwards and forwards!"

[goingtobeunwell]

"Jonathan," he sighs, grabbing him by the shoulders before he has the chance to go on for another fifteen minutes. "The dreams first, old man."

He pats his face. "Then you can try to drag whatever magic that doesn't exist out of me."

[kingsroads]

Strange would definitely go on for another fifteen minutes. However, Crozier's shoulder grab stops him from yammering too much about magic. He sighs, like this is a great imposition, before giving Crozier a small smile to show that he's joking.

"We'll start up again tonight, apprentice. I'll see you in your dreams."

[goingtobeunwell]

"Good Lord."

Crozier turns away from him, amused smirk on his face as he goes to tend to the helm.