singillatim | (closed)

Crozier isn't a man naturally gifted for speaking. He knows he can be clipped and unimpressive at times, especially when others have built him up as something more in their minds. But every once in a while, every once in a long while, he finds some eloquence hidden deep down by all those years of cynicism.

"The damage the ice does...there's nothing quite like it. If we didn't find a place to carefully over-winter our ships would become stuck in it, the frozen sea. You can walk right over it, the sky above so clear and so filled with stars. Then the ice moves, it crashes into itself, pushes itself into high pressure ridges and seracs. The smooth sea becomes a maze of ice taller than the ship itself, and it groans and screams as it crushes into itself. It's haunting."

The more Francis describes it the more Raju's smile grows, slowly and delighted. These are the kinds of things he'd been wanting to hear back when they'd first met, too. Maybe if he'd known a little more about exploring the ocean he might have tracked someone down back home to ask for stories. Sailing the river there is as much about the river itself and the destination; the ocean and the poles sound like something else again, dangerous and unconquerable in a way he might not otherwise have thought this quiet, practical man so hungry for.

Maybe he's glad, a little, that he hasn't asked anyone else before.

"Taller than the ship? How can you tell where it's going to be so your whole ship isn't crushed?"

"You can't," he says, still sounding delighted. It's a horrible, terrifying thing to experience firsthand, but he can't deny that it's absolutely incredible. There's no taming something like that, even if the Empire was so confident that all its technology and reinforced hulls would stand a chance.

"The ice does what it wants, and when you're in it there's no getting out until the next thaw. It'll either drive the ship under and sink it, or it'll push it up like the crest of a wave."

"That's mad," Raju grins, leaning forward and reflecting Francis's mood completely. His hand is curled thoughtlessly around the spoon like it's a weapon; remains of stew drips down onto the table. "You can't tell me the crown sends its ships into that on purpose. There must be some way to avoid it, or survive it. You don't just sit there and hope that the ship makes it through?"

“Oh, it’s barmy, but the Admiralty’s been throwing men at the Northwest Passage for nearly a century at this point. We’ve figured out a few tricks, only lost a few ships here and there. The way to do it is fine a safe harbor to make berth during the winter months. The ships will still freeze in, but the crush won’t be as great.”

Which he’d recommended time and time again to Sir John when they’d spotted pack ice, but…well. There’s no going backwards, is there?

Raju nods, fascinated. "And the land keeps the worst of it away? What do you do while you're frozen in like that, sit there and wait for the whole winter?"

That idea he really can't imagine. At least here there are things that need to be done, even if none of them make a difference to anything but day to day matters like comfort and warmth. He can go outside, even if here he hates the outside air, and all of it hates him back. He can search for old dry wood and something edible, even on days when he can't actually find any. It's something. At least it doesn't always feel like waiting.

"And what do you even do on a ship that can't sail?" he asks as it occurs to him. "Try to go fishing? Sit there and braid rope?"

He laughs loudly, his own meal completely forgotten. “Oh, I’m not sure you’ll believe me if I tell you…”

Crozier sits back slightly and reaches for some water. “We teach the men to read and write, draw, paint, climb, hunt, but there’s a very noble tradition of dressing up and putting on plays or having galas. The further away from home the more ridiculous things seem to become.”

"You're right. I don't believe you," Raju says in a tone that might say the opposite, or that even if he didn't believe him, he's enjoying it enough not to mind. He studies Francis for a moment, smiling, then: "What plays? Tell me about one. I want to be convinced."

It would be a joke if it wasn't true. This is another picture painting itself vividly in Raju's mind, and the one that he'd least expected to be there. "Did you ever play a part? Your officers?"

He can only imagine how the men in the barracks would have liked that, seeing the superior officers that way. It never would have happened, of course. But things might well be very different, so isolated with each other out at sea.

“Of course I did! Played the part of a servant in one pageant when I was still a lieutenant. We all did though, helps morale. Parry, my commander for my first polar expedition, was the one who came up with the idea in the first place. I think he played a queen…hell, it might have been a goddess, I can’t quite remember. The Discovery Service is far less serious than a navy at war.”

He does believe the morale bit is important, especially here. Without it people can lose their damn minds.

Raju laughs a little, ducking his head over it then grinning back up. "It must be. My commanders would have died before wearing a dress and a wig in front of their men. How did you do at it, acting? Were you any good?"

“I was terrible,” Crozier chuckles. “Forgot all my lines, wound up just playing scenery in the end.”

He thinks on another winter gala, the New Year’s party he and James Clark Ross had encouraged their men to throw. “Ross, the friend I’ve told you about, when he was commander he threw a large ball in honor of the New Year. I wore my dress uniform, and he a lovely gown, and we led the men in a quadrille.”

Dancing with ‘Miss Ross’ on the ice had certainly made a lasting impression on Francis Crozier.

Raju folds one forearm over the other, smiling. "He sounds like a fine man to serve under. Not many would be so willing to be laughed at like that for a bit of fun. What kind of leader was he? The Discovery Service might be different when you're stranded for the winter, but there's still order to be kept, isn't there?"

“He…” How to best describe Edward William Parry. He was evangelical, but not to the point of naivety like Sir John. He was genuine and sincere, and brave and meticulous.

“He was a man of god. He believed in the betterment of his crew, and let very little stop him in his pursuit of that. I was a midshipman when I served under him, and I remember the conversation when the idea of a crew newspaper was proposed. He so damned tickled, I think he was more proud of that than his discoveries.”

"A newspaper?" Again Raju's voice is a play at disbelief; it isn't believable, sort of, but he's enjoying believing it anyway. "About what? The crew? I imagine that turned into a gossip rag fairly quickly. What else is there to report on?"

“Of course it was a gossip rag! What the hell else were we going to write about, the daily menu?”

He shakes his head softly, full of good-humored nostalgia. “It published scientific efforts and trivia, and some gossip here and there. It was entertaining.”

"Maybe that's what this place needs." It would be a better way to keep up with everything than looking at whatever people decide to put on that message board, anyway— and a good way to keep up with gossip, too. He finds he almost misses that. Or maybe he only misses being better at knowing about it. None of the things he'd used to know about high society and how to involve himself in it apply here. And to be honest, keeping up with things in the same way here has been the last thing on his mind. But sitting here like this now it's easy to like the idea, or at least to like the way it allows him to tease about it.

"It's a shame it would use so much paper." He grins. "Maybe I could volunteer you, with all your experience."

“Oh, don’t be so cruel. I’d be forced to hear about adolescent problems day and night!”

True torture, never mind the cold and monsters.

“Only adolescent ones?” Raju grins. “You think everyone wouldn’t come complaining to you about their problems, asking you for advice…”

The man’s only just committed to involving himself at all, to facing other people again, but even if he hadn’t spent his time since he’d gotten here frightened to stop separating himself, Raju thinks this would still be something to tease about.

“Becoming a listening ear for every little annoyance in the town would suit you, I think.”

Edited (copy pasted from notes app wrong) 2024-03-26 20:16 (UTC)

He laughs again, enjoying the very gentle teasing thoroughly. He’s not so fragile, nor does he have anything like dignity or self-importance left - but mainly the first thing. Teasing between friends, it’s a nice change of pace for him.

“Is it the sad eyes or the fact that I’ve learned how to keep a still face whilst listening to minor annoyances?”

Raju breathes out a little laugh too. "Your patience, I think. I remember the first time we met, I kept expecting you to tell me to go away and you never did. And then you kept answering my questions! Terrible technique if you were trying to keep people from coming to you for things."

He starts rolling his foot on his heel again, tapping it against Francis' as he keeps grinning. "Maybe you're not as good at it as you think you are."

“Hell,” he laughs, knocking his foot back against Raju’s. He rubs under his ribs at the bandage and glances away, trying to hide the smile on his face.

“I don’t mind that kind of failure,” he finally admits. “If it brings people like you into my life.”

He doesn’t mean for it to be as significant as it sounds. He’s met so many people here that he’s enjoyed in some capacity - people he’d been desperate to push away when he first arrived.

Raju’s smile fades just a little, but only in surprise. Then he huffs a soft breath out of his nose, leaning forward. “I, ah…”

He taps a finger against the table. “I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage after leaving the Community Hall that way. I’ve only lived on my own a little bit; I guess I’m not used to it.”

Walking into a quiet cabin and looking around it at the abandoned things half-scavenged and thrown in corners to mold in the dark hadn’t been much like those first days of moving into his own rented rooms in Delhi, and it certainly hadn’t been like the later days, when Akhtar had been in near every day, as often as he could get away from everything else. Waking up this morning, comparing that to now, it’s… Well.

Raju takes advantage of his seat beside Francis to lean a little more and bump his shoulder. “So I suppose there are worse things for you to be terrible at,” he says. His smile isn’t a grin any more but it lingers, just as warm and softer.

In the days following little routines start to take shape. Small things, less focused on survival and more...well, frivolity is too light a descriptor for the kind of outings Crozier invites Raju along, but there is fun to be had in it all. He shares what he knows and takes advantage of the fact that Raju doesn't have mending ribs or just a single hand, and he has a little fun with a friend whose company he greatly enjoys.

Sleeping at the Community Hall, waking up there, it hadn't really mattered where he went, or when. There'd been a little of that in those last months in Delhi, nothing like the regimented routine that'd shaped his life in the barracks, but this place is something else again.

It isn't a routine, exactly, that Raju falls into. Sometimes Raju arrives later, or sometimes Francis is gone when he does— they each have their own business. But it's something, knowing where he needs to go when he wakes up. Knowing there might be someone there worth talking to once he does. Something about it helps.

Not that there's much time to fall into a routine anyway. It isn't a week later when that odd man, Methuselah, calls them together and gives them what should be good news, or hopeful news. But Raju's frowning as he hears some group behind him start talking over who's going to draw up the sign-up sheet Methuselah had suggested, looking around through whatever members of the crowd are lingering now that the announcement itself is done. The odd man wants whoever's going to leave soon, and there's one man in particular whose judgement Raju's learned to trust here, particularly if they're told that time is short. There.

"Francis," Raju calls, raising a hand and moving toward him. "What do you make of it?"

What does he make of it? Crozier can still feel a tightening in his chest, fear sharp and clean and wholly unexpected. The proposal of something so simple as a scouting party shouldn’t horrify him as much as it does, so he’s quiet during the meeting, trying to understand where this pain had originated and why his hand won’t stop shaking.

As the others begin to discuss the formation of a party amongst themselves he starts to walk away, wanting a little fresh air to gain in the hopes he’ll gain some perspective. Thankfully a distraction comes along in the form of a friend, and Crozier acknowledges the question with a soft grunt.

“We’re vulnerable enough as it is,” he tells him honestly, because Raju’s earned his candid opinion and then some. “Splitting us up, even temporarily, feels wrong. We could lose people all on a damned hunch.”

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Time Skip!

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