built my house out of sails and wood.

[fidior]

Who: Edward Little & Konstantin Veshnyakov + you!
What: plotted threads with Jhey's boatman & spaceman
When: the months of August, September, & October
Where: various places in Milton / possibly Lakeside

burned it down and it's gone for good

Comments

— John Irving.

[fidior]

[ It's a crisp October afternoon when they embark on their outing — a rare thing indeed; Edward can't remember the last time he did anything like this. In truth, it's not something he would usually allow himself to indulge in, but he's concerned about John. So much has happened, the attack from the Forest Talkers, the meeting held by their former captain, so many horrible truths exposed.

It wears on a man. For so long, so much has been wearing on them. And so it's actually Edward's idea to take a few hours off, to go out for a walk on a day when things are a little brighter, the air so cool and fresh. Again, this isn't... typical, and there's some overarching awkwardness; he's not used to doing anything that isn't... work. He's never even explored this land as anything but an officer — patrolling around the perimeter of the town or accompanying someone to and from Lakeside. But today, there is no agenda, other than to spend some time with his companion. They've brought food, too, in packs — a quiet picnic just a ways off from the town seems nice.

Edward's made an impossibly fast recovery from his wounds in September, thanks to Kate, but he hasn't left the house much these past weeks. Tilting his head up a bit to glance at the sun, he lets it fall upon his face for a moment, allowing himself a quiet second or two to enjoy the sensation, before he turns his head towards John. ]

It's a nice day, isn't it? At times I think that being in the cold and the dark for so long has made me truly able to appreciate the sun in a way I never once could.

[extramuralise]

[ If there's one thing Irving loves that isn't spelled G-O-D, it's a proper outdoor venture: long walks, hiking, climbing... just man and nature, as close to God as it gets.

(Sailing and swimming used to have rather high places on that list, as well, although for obvious reasons those experiences have been unfortunately compromised... not that he'd be doing either one here, regardless.)

In terms of getting out of one's own head, clearing it free of all but fresh air, adrenaline, and God, there's little better. Irving is more grateful to Little for suggesting it than he can even express in words, after everything that's happened— everything Irving needs his mind taken far, far away from, both since Milton and before it.

The Darkwalker and Forest Talkers are not much more unbelievable than the Tuunbaq itself had been for him, but the things Crozier told them... Hickey and Gibson... even simply just being here to begin with, in utter, unholy defiance of death.

Not that Irving isn't grateful for second chances; not that he resents being given back some semblance of a life again. It isn't right, though, and it chills him to even imagine what it's all at the expense of.

But for now, standing out in the cold October sunlight, he smiles, tipping his face up into the faint autumn warmth just as Little's done, as if they're simply a pair of flowers slavishly dependent on the light rather than two cold, damaged men. ]

A perfect day, [ he agrees, taking a deep breath. ] The like of which I truly never anticipated I'd be seeing again. I'd reckon we best make the most of it.

[fidior]

[ It's a relief, even if such a short-lived one, to see Irving take that moment to absorb it as well, a moment of stillness. For a very long time, it has felt as though things are moving so swiftly, as though they're trapped in the throes of their own lives, a spectator more than an active participant. At least, that's how it's felt for Little — though he's tried so hard to hang onto some semblance of control.

....Well. It's all gone now. It was all gone a long time ago, actually. Revisiting so many of those horrible truths during Crozier's meeting was a reminder of that much; Edward Little lost control a long time ago. And here in this place too, so much is... outside of what they can claim as autonomy. The Darkwalker, the attacks, the deaths, the... strange way this environment can affect and alter people. Even now he's aware of how he's been changed by it — at any moment, if he willed it, he could become a beast. (It's a thought he does keep tucked away, just in case... they should encounter any trouble. He can protect John, if he needs to. Not that he wants an ounce more of blood on his hands, but.. this is his punishment, and he does accept it. Beneath his breast now lingers a thing with sharp claws and teeth, and if he has to use those to keep his companion safe.....)

But for now, hopefully, there will be no need for any of that. For now, hopefully, he and John can simply take a few hours to themselves. He smiles again, feeling happy and hopeful that the other man might be able to find some peace, for these few hours. ]

I must agree — who knows when we might have opportunity like this again? [ Again, not that Edward Little is the best at knowing how to enjoy a moment, but... he can try...! He gestures forwards, where the path starts slanting upwards a bit. ]

Are you up for a bit of a climb? [ Not quite teasing, but there's something lighter in the dark browns of his eyes as he speaks, warming them to rich chocolate. ]

[extramuralise]

[ Little's warm and nearly playful tone makes Irving blink with surprise, looking at his friend(? Or is that inappropriate? Presumptuous? Forward, even...? Maybe it's still too soon to begin assigning such an intimate label such as friendship to their relationship yet) with big, round eyes the color of sea-glass as a faint smile twitches at the corners of his mouth.

It seems almost unnatural, the ease with which that pre-smile appears; Irving really isn't much of a smiler in general, and even just the mere, cheeky suggestion of one now makes him feel immediately self-conscious. He flattens his lips into a prim, pursed line, quickly resolving not to embarrass himself any further by allowing such a blatant, unchecked display of earnesty to happen again.

(Control-freak vs control-freak?) ]

First define 'a bit' of one for me here, please... although the answer is still yes, regardless, [ he replies, carelessly answering in a tone that would be easy to mistake for cheeky banter. ] Faith tells me that you're most likely a very gifted climber, but seeing is believing.

[ Wait. Ugh. He can't believe he just said that. ]

... Actually, that sounded blasphemous. I apologize.

[ A beat, before he's stepping forward onto the hiking path. ]

I'll follow you. How far are we going?

[fidior]

[ His relationship with John is difficult to pinpoint — of course, that's the case for his relationship with all of the men from their Expedition, though with John, it's a little different. They live together, stay quite closely within each other's proximity. That isn't necessarily atypical, considering how close their proximity was during their time on Terror, but this place is different in so many ways. It's been some strange mix of the normal and the abnormal, the usual and the unusual.

And of them all, Irving seems to be holding to his previous mannerisms just as much as Little has been. Most of the other men have shed all of their uniformed clothing, taken on new hobbies, roles, even shifts in personality and behaviour to suit this new environment, but not Little. And around Irving... he feels he can be the most "like himself" that he was before, even if he's at once painfully aware that he's no longer that man at all. He's the most comfortable around him than he is around the others, even if he doesn't quite know where they slot in with one another, either. They aren't just any one thing, he thinks — they're bound by the knowledge and experience of what happened, bound by virtue of being The Lieutenants, but are they also bound by more than those things? He would consider John a friend, though the word doesn't come easily in Edward's vocabulary, for anyone. Still... he sees him as a companion. He's glad to spend time in his company, even if this is the first time they've really "hung out", as some of the modern folk might say...

In any case, though he's perpetually a little awkward, shy, Edward's also more relaxed in this moment, with this company, than he usually is capable of being. One who knows him well might notice that his shoulders aren't held tense the way the almost always are, and that no frown lingers at the corner of his mouth or knits his brows. No, there are none of those things, only a brightening of the eyes and a soft quirk of the mouth, almost amused as he looks over to the other man. ]

Please — there is nothing you need to apologise to me for. I only hate to disappoint you when you see for yourself how inept I am at such things.

[ A bit of his usual self-deprecation, but this time meant humourously, even light-hearted. He even smiles, and it even almost shows teeth! ]

Not too far — I've been out this way before, there's a slope and then something of a clearing. The Basin is close; we might even be able to look out over it.

[ Edward moves to lead the way, though truly, he's not in tiptop physical shape. With access to regular food and rest, he's gained back the weight lost during their Expedition, but he's not necessarily athletic, and unused to more strenuous activity. He moves a bit slowly, panting with effort here and there as he makes his way up the path, boots heavy against the snow. ]

How are you faring back there? [ he calls back, and again with a bit of light-heartedness to his voice. John's tall, and slim; he might be having an easier time... ]

[extramuralise]

[ It's a rare yet simple comfort that a man like Irving could never possibly take for granted: the ability to still truly feel "like himself" much at all anymore, but especially alongside someone else who also shares and understands that feeling in all its complicated enormity.

Change, of course, is an entirely normal and inevitable part of life; people will always be made to grow and adapt and learn from their particular environments and circumstances whether they like it or not, which is precisely the thing about change that Irving finds the most uncomfortable. What if, for instance, he likes the man who he was before, the man whom he actually knows, and whom he's always, always been?

And what if he doesn't believe that either he or Little would be any happier that way, striving so futilely to belong somewhere that will never, ever accept them? Because this, right now, is what feels good— it feels natural in an almost uninhibited way, two men trudging together through the cold and empty wilderness for no other reason than it being just about the only proper way left for men to actually have friendships with other men.

This modern world certainly isn't all bad by any means, but Irving can already tell that he'll never be considered a true "modern man" by any standard here, and nor, frankly, does he ever want to be. Gibson and Hickey, however, are more than welcome to their shedding of skins in favor of climbing inside new ones which will never, ever fit them right, if that's really the sort of life they want so badly to be living together here. ]

Still right behind, [ he confirms in response to Little's question, breathing a little heavier now, but only just. ] Though so far we've only been walking, Edward, and you can hardly be inept at that, now can you— why, it's so simple even children do it.

[ Irving's tone is light, though, warm but wry, since he can greatly empathize with harboring such strong feelings of insecurity and poor confidence that they might, at any time, grow into something smothering yet nearly interchangeable with reality.

Admittedly, the sheer extent to which Little often seems to feel similarly does baffle Irving just a bit, as though Little weren't himself the very platonic ideal of any and every rugged, handsome sailor made to flesh— capable, proactive, steadfast, and strong, and though perhaps not quite as fit as he'd once been before, clearly still a man who keeps active, which is what matters most anyway. Forthright, noble, gentle, honest, often willing to step up and speak his mind even if or when it might ultimately lead to conflict at his own expense...

And perhaps most importantly of all, Little's always been so present, commonly the one who'd patiently have to steer his 2nd and 3rd forward through the day by the day, the one who could, would, and did lead and command them in their Captain's stead whenever he was all they had. ]

Nothing you should need apologize for either, incidentally, [ he adds, a bit more matter-of-fact. ] If you do begin to struggle, I can always help you.

[ In fact, Irving's cheeks glow faintly warm with pride at the idea of offering Little any tips, suggestions, or advice that he has at his disposal to help to ease and improve their efforts, be it about posture, footholds, stretching... anything, really.

Athletic is just a matter of perspective, anyway— truth be told, Irving's hardly in the best shape of his life anymore, either, and especially not since the Expedition; he may enjoy such activities as long walks, bicycle rides, and free-climbing, but he's always been pure rubbish on anything like a football or cricket pitch, and with more traditional sport in general. ]

I'm not sure that I've ever actually seen the Basin in sunlight before.

cw: suicide attempt mention in a wholesome sailor thread?? it's more likely than you think

[fidior]

[ Edward turns his head enough that he can somewhat glance back over his shoulder, the sun upon that bright little glimpse of his smile as it widens a fraction — enough to expose the gleam of his canine, a little sharper than the average might be. It's rare that anyone gets a toothy Little smile, but he doesn't even have to think twice about exposing such a thing in front of his present company, even if he's not currently facing him directly, head turned to the side like that. ]

I fear I may need to learn some things from the children, in that case.

[ Just some more playful teasing of himself, a little silly and a little ridiculous, things that Little so rarely allows himself to be. Truly, he can't recall the last time he felt— a bit younger, even if with each step he's reminded on some level of his years and of the particular ways he's been eroded, of the wear and ache deep down in his bones. With the crisp air in his senses, with the sun casting its light to his face, no matter how cold their environment may be, things really do look and feel lovely, up here. There's a certain freedom. And of course— his present company helps. To be trekking through the snow with a companion, to be gently teasing one another in their own respectively cautious ways. It's nice. This is nice.

He turns his head back around as he keeps moving, giving a soft but resonating groan as he reaches for a nearby tree trunk to help him upwards, and then taking a moment to learn against it as he catches his breath, slightly more winded after spending some of his oxygen chatting. ]

I might take you up on that offer very quickly, as a matter of fact. Perhaps you should guide us up instead, and I'll watch how you do it. I'm feeling my age today, John.

[ He breathes a quiet laugh, still halfway teasing (but also halfway serious). And he's moving so slowly, John's surely having to adjust his pacing to slow down behind him. But Edward pauses, turning to look back at him again for a moment as he takes that breather. ]

I've been up... a few times. It's a remarkable view.

[ His first time, he followed Kate Marsh's footsteps until he found the girl there at the edge. He brought her back from it, her face wet with tears, her hand shuddering uncontrollably in his own. For some time, he couldn't return there. Couldn't face that place she'd been drawn to, that precarious edge, that gaping mouth waiting below. If he hadn't found her, she'd— .... He can't think of it.

But over the months, he'd found himself back up here on occasion, whether to help with hunting parties or to scout for resources. And then later, he'd come in solitude, as the beast — moving fast and strong and senses alive with every single thing there is to feel up in a place like this. It's been a while since he's made the trek in a human body. He's glad to have a friend with him for it. And— he wants to show John a place like that. A place that's beautiful, in this white isolation. ]

[extramuralise]

[ The radiant flash of Little's smile catches Irving quite unprepared, causing him to stumble briefly with his footing before then managing to confidently recover his stride again within the next step or two— nothing worthy of alarm, or even notice, although he can feel a flush of adrenaline begin to warm his cheeks. He allows himself to meet Little's gaze and then offers his own smile back, more reserved than Little's moment of unbridled joy just a moment before, though no less earnest. ]

You're nearly of an age with me, I hope you realize, Edward, [ although his tone is more amused than chiding, like a part of him would sooner laugh at the notion of Little being old. ] Steady on, as you go— as long as you remember to pace yourself, you'll do just fine.

[ He braces himself slightly by placing a hand against Little's arm, supporting only a fraction of Irving's weight as he brings himself level with Little, now. His eyes have already gone wide, taking in the landscape's splendor from up here with a beatific, awestruck wonder. ]

It is... remarkable, [ he agrees, slightly breathless from both the sight and from the hike itself. ] How long is it that you've known to come here?

[ Irving's quickly warming cheeks are now beginning to sting bitterly in the cold, but he can't find it in him to even consider complaining of discomfort, not up here. Not with Little. He leaves his hand where it is resting loosely upon his First's sleeve, for now— not quite hanging on, nor yet ready to break from the moment.

Then, when he does withdraw his hand to let it hang back at his side, he turns back to Little, his pale, eager eyes grown large and round, only further helping his pink cheeks make the smile he now wears appear distinctly boyish. ]

Did somebody show it to you?

[fidior]

[ Moments like these are rare for him, with anyone — but there's something particularly especial to sharing them with the other man. There was a time once, before things started going so horrifically during that last expedition, that he might have been able to exchange some lighter-hearted moments with John, and George, the two men he was in the closest contact with outside of the captain himself, but even then it was all generally during a time of work, of severity and structure. He'd never gotten to know them outside of that setting, to spend time with them beyond those boundaries.

There were good times, though. He still carries them with him. Little moments, inbetween the other things. Exchanges, conversation, a smile. But now.... now, he feels he's really able to get to know the third, and there's something almost bittersweet to it. But no less precious. This day is a precious one.

Little smiles again at the back-and-forth; polite as they might remain with one another, it's still a degree of indeed almost boyish teasing, at least for them. He turns towards the other man as he places a hand bracingly to his arm, ready to meet and assist him, reaching his other arm around to grasp John's shoulder for a moment, give it an almost reassuring squeeze, before he turns back to look at the view himself, expanding down and outwards. This place is beautiful, when one has a quiet moment to truly appreciate it. He finds himself pleased by the other man's reaction, his quiet but genuine wonder, and pleased that he could show John such a thing, could elicit that wide-eyed smile.

Even if his own response to those questions is one that stirs a particular pain in his heart, though Edward keeps it subdued, smile simply softening a little. ]

It was Miss Marsh who first directed my attention here — not long after my arrival, over a year ago now. [ He nods, to answer both of the questions in one. His eyes slowly travel down to the basin, the slope of land, precarious; that memory is... a horrible sort of ache, but it's also just as much a precious one as this moment is now, in its ways. ]

Someday I should like to come see the sun rise from here, though it would mean traveling in the dark beforehand. [ And it might be safer if he were to come in his other form for that particular journey, but... he doesn't want to talk about turning into a wolf around John... it's very embarrassing... Edward turns his head to face his companion again, and shifts the pack on his back towards his front, eyes bright. ]

Are you hungry? I've been looking forward to having a meal with such a view.

[extramuralise]

[ Without knowing the true story behind Kate and Little's history with this place, Irving doesn't much question the explanation, except perhaps to wonder over what Kate's intentions at the time had been — it is, after all, a rather intimately secluded location — and question how exactly she'd known about it to tell Little. Has she been hiking up here alone...? And how often?

But he can concern himself with all that another time; right now, it's far more pleasant to just linger in the moment for however long it lasts. Little touches him on the shoulder with a fond, firm squeeze, then turns his attention towards the view before Irving's cheeks can glow any pinker.

He takes in a deep breath, then slowly releases it, turning to admire the landscape again as a comfortable silence settles briefly over them. It truly is breathtaking to behold, illuminated with an unspoiled beauty Irving never would have imagined such an environment could provide— unspoiled, yes, but how often can one actually call anything surrounded by miles and miles of snow, ice, and stone beautiful in earnest?

Well, likely some could. Irving tends to prefer bright blue skies and green, sun-warmed fields, himself. ]

Not necessarily, [ he offers, finally breaking the silence, though feeling almost reluctant to do so. ] If you were to come up during the daylight hours and then made camp here overnight... perhaps not exactly ideal in this climate, I'll grant you, but it could be done.

[ Then he nods obligingly, glad for them to take a lunch break. ]

The climb here alone was enough to work up my appetite— and the energy will serve us well on our way back down, besides.