fracturedvoyagelogs | Entries tagged with sabriel

July 2020

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
			1	2	3	4
5	6	7	8	9	10	11
12	13	14	15	16	17	18
19	20	21	22	23	24	25
26	27	28	29	30	31

Custom Text

Trixie hides the revolver Jake gave her in the drawer of Al's desk. She covers it with a cloth and a few pieces of scrap paper with charcoal Chinese characters and scribbled pictures - why Al kept them is a fucking mystery she'll never solve - and shuts it tightly. She thinks of the bottles of whiskey in the bottom drawer and pulls one out to take a long drink and stare out at the still thoroughfare. If she pretends everyone in the camp's just asleep then it almost seems like home.

She would've shot that man, and he would've fucking deserved it for what he did to Anna and her sister, but then Harry would've seen her for what she really was and she's got a precarious fucking grip on that illusion as it is.

She takes another shot and goes about her day, not drunk but with enough of a buzz that she stops thinking about the gun temporarily. Morning meal first - she's apparently taken over the galley which is fucking hilarious to her, as Jewel was the cook for the saloon and Trixie could barely boil a pot of tea but apparently no one got the message here - then cleaning up, a check in with Sabriel and Anna, and starting on the evening meal.

Out of all her tasks for the day she's the most anxious to talk to her girls. Sabriel had a rough time, being trapped in a fucking portrait by a fairy and all, and Anna's probably not doing so hot now that her man's gone back to Arendelle. It makes her want to chain smoke up deck when she thinks about what this place did to them.

In the evening after dinner she goes back to her room and sits at Al Swearengen's desk, thinking about the gun and the whiskey again. Happiness is like a carrot on a fucking stick, and it makes her want to scream in frustration. Why, why can't she just react to things in a normal fucking way?

Tags:

The first thing Strange does is see to Sabriel. He doesn't know how long they talk. Days? Hours? Time is still a little hazy in his mind. But she is what matters most and he is going to stay with her as long as she needs it.

But conversations cannot last forever so eventually, they pull apart for the moment, leaving Strange to wander the halls of the Terror by himself. He knows that he is still a little mad. He can tell from seeing the faces of some people he passes in the halls: Gray seems to be himself and a picture of absolute horror at the same time, Goodsir has white heather falling from his wrists, and lavender threatens to spill from Jopson's mouth. A few drops of the tincture lasted him a night and, in his panic, Strange pretty much downed the entire bottle during the course of this madness (a fact which he's really beating himself up about, good God Jonathan, what would Arabella say?). But, he is the captain's magician and he needs to pull himself together. After all, the ship must have questions.

Strange can be found pretty much anywhere that's not his room, as he wanders the halls aimlessly. He does not eat much, as everything still tastes of rotten tomatoes, but the tea he brews seems to cut through the taste so he drinks that. More often than not, he is out on deck, singing a quiet song to the raven or just standing still and staring out to the horizon, letting the cold and the Arctic air whip through him as he tries to push through the madness. He feels like he could be the entire sky. It's a dangerous thought.

Though one moment is different as one night, after being on the deck for hours (maybe days? Time is hard right now), Strange casts a spell. Place the moon at my eyes and her whiteness shall devour the false sights you have placed there. Place the sound of ice cracking in my ears. The ice does not discriminate and will freeze all that exists, showing you what does not. Place the taste of rot in my mouth. When all tastes wrong, you will pause before eating. Remove my leg so that I may not walk towards my own folly. Place my heart in a secret place, pressed between the pages of a certain book. It will be safe and he will watch it for you. Nothing visibly happens and he looks exactly the same, but the magician can't help but laugh loudly and grin at the stars as, for the first time in a while, Strange understands.

Tags:

In the morning there's a bit of a stir onboard Terror and Erebus. There are new arrivals practically popping out of the woodwork!

Oh, what hath dream-god wrought!

((Forward-dating this log to the 4th wall event! Have fun, Terrors.))

Tags:

In the morning there's a spread of French pastries waiting for everyone in the galley, and a few carafes full of black coffee with cream and sugar to taste.

In the afternoon there's a song in the air. Where is it coming from? What the hell are they saying? Why is it being playing ten times in a row?

In the evening there are fireworks. Beautiful, patriotic fireworks of silver, red, and blue. In the galley there's some lovely quiche for dinner.

Vive la France!

Tags:

Early in the morning, this announcement is made by Lt. Jopson on the journals:

"It is my solemn duty to report that the peculiar weather conditions we have experienced as of late have escalated beyond what we can understand. The rain has given way to falling ice. As of this morning, my instruments have failed and Terror seems to be navigating herself, much as she did prior to our arrival to warmer waters. Captain Crozier has confirmed this and has advised that preparations for colder weather should begin. While it seems the warmth from the coal moves freely through the pipes, the deck's temperature drops by the hour. Regular watches should resume on deck to keep a lookout for ice. Any sightings should be reported to myself or Captain Crozier immediately."

((Hey, you said you like mingling posts, so I made this mingling post for the remainder of Big Blue Wet Thing. As a reminder- Thursday is sleet, Friday is ice in the water, Saturday is stuck in the ice, Sunday is back to "normal." But obviously, feel free to forward or back date as needed.))

Tags:

-- Some threads are NSFW. Open around coworkers and family at your own risk. --

In the morning, after the first meal, comes a notice from Captain Crozier that at sunset he hopes that all will join him on the deck of Terror for a ball. Formal dress recommended, but not required. Nothing more is needed to attend than their own persons and good cheer.

____

With help from the magicians, Crozier spends the day transforming the deck of the ship into a space suitable for dancing and drinking and general merriment. For light, Crozier employs Sabriel: three orbs hang in the air well above the heads of the guests, flooding the deck in a glow resembling the scattering of lamps along the sides of the ship. For the decorations the botanist in Crozier finds ferns and flowers from the island, the wood of the ship itself dotted with flowers Strange has grown straight from her timbers. Sabriel arranges the plants and lays rugs and chairs over spaces for resting, while McGonagall charms banners and bunting from the sky to sway gently over the attendees.

Masts and railings are hung with fabric -- most of it canvas, but Crozier's found some nicer cloth hidden in the orlop and hangs it over a table he's placed towards the bow. On the table itself he's arranged the spirits from the hold, including his own whiskey and the rum found by Mulder and Shaun, as well as some coconuts and mangoes and pineapples for further decoration and perhaps consumption, if anyone feels daring enough to try to open them.

The trickiest part was the music. Not wishing to settle for the tinny notes of the hand organ, or force one soul into providing all the entertainment through singing or playing one of the instruments aboard, he turns to McGonagall, and she's able to charm the instruments into playing by themselves. The violins and other strings play sweetly from the space by the helm, ready to take requests from the dancers so long as the requester knows the song well enough.

At sunset the hatch is opened and Crozier has those still on the beach row over, greeting everyone warmly as they step foot on the deck.

((You know what to do, folks. I want to see Happiness. Drunkenness. Dancing. Drama.))

Tags:

Welcome to Unnamed Island #1, everyone! Lt. Jopson has successfully steered the ship towards land! (Or maybe the ship was going there the whole time? Who knows, burst his bubble if you want to be a monster!) The island is large and uninhabited by humans, but has lots of wildlife. This isn’t a specific island on a map because, like all things in the dream, it is an amalgamation of the characters in it. So, if it looks like it might be on a tropical island, it will be! Pineapples, coconuts, mangos- sure! Seals and feral pigs- you bet! Beautiful reefs- Of course! Secret Caribbean rum stores- why the hell not? Two species of crabs that shouldn’t be in the same hemisphere- hell yeah! (After all, Goodsir’s the only one who will know the difference). Enjoy the island, folks! The Terror will dock there starting today and they will leave on Tuesday the 7th.

Piña coladas, anyone?

((This is an open post for island shenanigans though, of course, you are always welcome to start your own!))

Tags:

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.

Tags:

The ship doesn't keep time through bells or watches anymore, but Crozier can still hear them ringing in his mind as he checks his pocket watch. He calls the meeting right in the middle of the first Dog Watch, letting it land right as their dinner's being cooked in the galley. It gives everyone added incentive to be present and alert for what he's about to say.

He asks Jopson if everyone is present - and sends out additional messages to those who happened to ignore the first few calls for a meeting - and then stands in aisle by the head of the galley, hands behind his back, to address them.

"Some of you have already spotted the cracks in the ice," he begins, voice loud and accent somewhat dialed back. He's formal here, speaking to a crew instead of this odd assortment of men and women. "They appeared when we returned from Edinburgh, and have grown wider and more numerous by the hour. It also seems as though the pressure ridge that has pushed Terror onto her side is beginning to lessen. The unnatural tilt in which he walk is beginning to straighten itself out."

He pauses. "What does this mean?"

Crozier scans their faces carefully for any sort of understanding.

"I'll not mince words. Terror is in a precarious situation. If this indeed is a sign of a thaw - and it is looking more and more likely by the minute - then in her current state she'll sink. Her hull has been under immense pressure for a number of years. She's full of holes, her metal plating's warped, and her sails are in storage." He doesn't mention the limited knowledge of the current 'crew', figuring that it should be obvious.

"I've called you together not to alarm you, but to present a course of action. The first is to repair the ship to the best of our ability. The second is to catalog our stores and begin putting together a sledges that can be pulled, or sailed, if we begin to lose Terror. We must act swiftly, and we must act together."

((We're 'running' this meeting kind of like we did for the town halls during classic FR. In the thread Crozier will ask for comments and volunteers, and characters can respond. You can also add in a new thread if your character has another point to make, or any side conversations that may happen. And of course you can just tag in with the general impression your character has of the whole ordeal.))

Tags:

After that nightmare of a Nightmare, Sabriel desperately tries to occupy herself with something. The more she walks, the more she sees the images of those corpses in the back of the wagon. The desecration done to them. Through clues in the doctor's notes, she can guess at what happened, but it leaves her restless. She's glad to have her bells back, but they weigh heavily on her and she draws her surcoat around them, as if she doesn't want to see them.

((Since Sabriel came in the middle of all this nonsense, consider this her intro post! She can be found all over the ship.))

Tags:

This place stinks of death. Sabriel stands up from the ice, confused but not panicked. She had not crossed the First Gate, which meant that she had likely been pulled back into Life. But where? And why? At first, all she can see is ice, great pillars of it that seem like a king's guard. As she turns, she finally spies the ship- the source of the death, though she senses great life too. But no danger.

She doesn't question how she has her bells back- all in proper shape and well cleaned except for Astarael. She checks the bandolier across her chest, touching each bell gently. Abhorsen's sword at her hip and the bells at her chest, she feels a least somewhat protected. Her surcoat, decorated with a key pattern, is still around her shoulders, though she has lost the majority of her armor. It didn't seem as if she came straight from the battle, but she didn't feel any different. She could even feel the Charter here, around her, like a comforting blanket, so she must still be north of the wall.

Forming the charter marks for warmth, strength, and light, she whistles them out and finds herself with a comforting light at her shoulder that gives her enough warmth to cut through the ice. "Is anyone there?" she calls out softly, not wanting to draw attention to anything dead that might be lurking.

Tags:

Page Summary

Syndicate

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Style Credit

Style: Elegant Notebook for Gold Leaf by rosecarmine
Resources: Yusuke Kamiyamane and Atle Mo

Fractured Voyage Logs

Entries tagged with sabriel

Profile

July 2020

Custom Text

Many times, that’s what the fuck life is… one vile fucking task after another

03 - it is a matter of perception

4th Wall Day Open Log

A Very English Breakfast and Fireworks

And we are here as on a darkling plain

A Grand Ball to Celebrate A Week Without Misery

Land, ho!

Open Log: Big Blue Wet Thing

A Discussion of the Ice

02 - From there we came outside and saw the stars

01. (For Strange) Two in the folk who keep the dead down

Page Summary

Syndicate

Expand Cut Tags

Style Credit