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

[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.