open | leave the horror here

[castitas]

Who: Kate Marsh + you!
What: Making rosehip tea/syrup shenanigans; nightmares; feast preparations + more!
When: The month of October.
Where: Various places around Milton.

Content Warnings: Warnings in the individual prompts. As a general rule, themes of depression and suicide, possibly mentions of suicide attempt from last month from It Speaks prompt.




contact: heolstor / _heolstor @ discord for plotting!

Comments

[jackdawvision]

[This girl's an innocent. This girl hasn't even seen rabbits die before, has a little pet rabbit of her own, and if she had a pet rabbit then of course she'd be upset seeing skinned rabbits, being butchered for food. Edward listens to her, and thinks about Jenny, who he never wanted to expose to the sort of life he'd led.

He nods, a little.]

No, of course you're not stupid. I understand, it's—hard, to see something like that, especially when you've a pet of your own of the same species. [He huffs out a breath.] I can't say you won't see roast rabbit at the feat, because we do need the meat, [and honestly he's looking forward to eating some,] but. There's got to be something else you can do to help, in the meantime, that doesn't involve butchering rabbits.

[Hang on, he's thinking, he's thinking...]

Decorations, perhaps? To make any newcomers feel more at ease.

[castitas]

I know. And I know we have to eat— [ She doesn't think she could bring herself to eat rabbit. Even if she was really hungry. The thought of it makes her stomach turn. She looks thoroughly miserable for a long moment, wiping at her eyes. ] I just... want to go home. I don't think I'm any good to be in a place like this.

[ It's... saying a lot, considering everything going on back home, for her. Even with the fact that people have been far kinder to her in this place than the people at school.

But she considers the idea. Decorating. She likes making things. Decorating would be pretty nice to do. Not to mention it would be a good way to spend some time. They all have huge amount of it on their hands. ]

I like art, making things. [ She thinks for a moment. ] Maybe I could make.... um, like... paper chains? If I could find some coloured paper? It's something really simple but they're really pretty.

[jackdawvision]

Tell you something? [He lowers his voice, as if to whisper to her:] I want to go home, too. I left my children behind when I came here, and if a way home somehow opened up tomorrow I'd take it without looking back. [And then he'd do everything he could to fix the mess he'd made, keep his children safe, keep them out of the Templars' grasping hands.] But, look—you've survived this far, haven't you? You're much better at being here than you might think.

[And really, all survival is when you think about it is just trying to make it into the next week, day, hour.]

We'll make a vegetable stew. For you and anyone else who might not want to eat rabbits.

[He can't really guarantee that, but. He feels bad enough for her that he wants to try looking for vegetables around here.]

Aye, that's a good idea. I think there might be some colored paper in a few homes? I didn't keep track of where, when we were first raiding them for supplies. Might be we can go and check.

[castitas]

[ Her face shifts at that. His children. It's a horrible kind of horror. She misses her own family, her sisters especially. But she'd never stopped to realise that there's people here who might have children. ]

... I'm sorry. [ She offers it gently. ] I'm sorry this place took you from your family.

[ She considers it for a brief moment, her brow furrowing slightly. ]

... I had help. [ Very nearly, she wouldn't have been here at all. She could have not been here any longer had Lieutenant Little talked her down. Shame comes all too easily, and she looks down for a long moment. ] I can't really do anything on my own.

[ Not... all of this. Surviving. Arcadia Bay doesn't even really get snow. How's she supposed to survive here, in this place? She is way out of her depth. She's still in high school.

Still, she smiles at that. It's a tiny one, but a smile all the same. Making a veggie soup does sound like a good idea. She nods, she'd like that.

The idea of raiding home for coloured paper does have a mixed response. It seems like the straight-forward thing to do, but she still feels like it doesn't feel right to do it. Taking things from people's homes. And it's coming from someone who left a twenty dollar bill on the counter in the grocery store. ]

I don't like the idea of taking from people's homes. I know someone told me they're gone so it doesn't matter any more, but— I feel like it does still matter. ... Is that weird?

[jackdawvision]

It's not your fault, Kate. I'll find my way back to them, anyhow.

[This rings falser than anything else he's said so far. He's just telling himself and Kate that as a way to make himself feel better, but he'd felt the sword. He knows that's not possible. But if there is a way back...he can't not try to take it, if one ever does open up.]

No one can survive on their own, lass. [He pauses.] It's possible, but it'll drive a man mad, being alone. [See: Charles Vane, poor sod. It's been a long enough time that Edward no longer feels quite so pissed at him as he did when he was younger, just feels pity.] It's good that you had help, everyone should have that. Makes it easier to live, not just to exist.

[As reassuring as he is, he can't help but think, my god, you're younger than my Jenny. What's she doing here, in this frozen hellscape with the rest of them? She's so damn young, she shouldn't be here, yet she is and all he can do about it is try to bolster her self-esteem.

As for the question of whether looting from a dead man's house is weird...]

I may not be the best person to ask that. [Because he has looted so many corpses, ninety percent of which he made, that he honestly forgot that it is, in fact, weird. He scratches at his nose, thinking about how to phrase this without offending her.] I think that respect for the dead is important, but they're not capable of minding anymore if we take something from them. But then my old line of work was...rather bloody, sometimes, so what matters to you has long since become little more than background noise to me.

sorry for the lateness on this one

[castitas]

I'm sure you will, too. [ On the other hand, she believes that. Or she tries to as best she can. It's hard to stay hopeful, but there's little else for them. They have to get home, somehow. There has to be a way for them to get out of this place and get back to their loved ones. ]

I feel like that keeps coming up a lot, lately. Existing and living. [ There's a wan smile. ] But.. I'm glad I did have help. People have been really kind here.

[ Well, there's one person she's met that hasn't been. But basically everyone else has been, and that means a whole lot. People have been nice enough and kind enough to help.

She's quiet as she listens, and there's the slightest hint of uncertainty in her eyes as he explains. It's... a fair stance, she thinks. Maybe. They're very different people, and she guesses he's got far more experience under him that she has. But it does have her concerned about just what that experience is. ]

What... did you do for work?

[ She's not completely sure if she really wants to know. ]

[jackdawvision]

It'll keep coming up. Happens to be one of those questions that have a habit of cropping up in places like this—what it means to live, and live well.

[He says this with experience, drumming his fingernails absently on his kneecap to a melody only he can hear, a sea shanty that exists only in his memory. He does smile a little when she tells him that people have been kind, though, and says:] Then we're doing better than I thought we might.

[Granted, they don't have higher ambitions than "survive the winter" right now. The pirates of Nassau had such lofty goals and ideals that had crashed right into reality like a ship splintering against a cliff that loomed up out of nowhere. And speaking of pirates...

For a long moment, Edward's quiet. Then, on the edge of it being too long, he speaks:]

I used to be a pirate. Years ago, now. I've done much worse than loot abandoned houses. [He doesn't say it with pride, or regret. Simply says it like he's stating a fact.] It's been a long time, though, and these days I'm a merchant. Or I used to be before I showed up here. [It's still not the whole truth, and he certainly won't tell this kid he still kills people, this time in the service of a greater cause than himself. He knows how that sounds.]

[castitas]

I've been getting a lot of opinions on the matter. [ Good ones, implied by the tiny smile. The importance of kindness and goodness in places like this. That is more than simply to survive. It's been helpful, consider her own thoughts on her lack of skills here. There's some things she can't do, it's true. But she knows there's stuff she can do that's just as important.

It's an answer she doesn't expect, and she's staring in a quiet wide-eyed surprise for a long moment. He's done worse than loot abandoned houses. There's a kind of hesitancy about it all, but she's not judging him for it. He doesn't do it any more, that means something.

But... does he actually mean... a pirate? Like... that kind of pirate? ]

Um, when you say pirate. You mean like— [ She's even putting on a little bit of a 'voice' for it, putting one of her hands over her eyes for the full effect. ] 'Avast, maties. Here be a spot to bury treasure.' with the eye patch and rapier sword. That... kind of pirate?

[jackdawvision]

It'll do you good to listen to them. [He pauses.] I suppose it does help, though, that so far we ain't got very lofty goals. I don't think we have the capacity to dream up anything loftier than making it through the winter with our lives and sanity intact, right now.

[Just for the moment, anyway. He figures it'll change in time, as they all settle in more and start thinking more long-term.

That startles a surprised laugh out of Edward, the accent—it's not quite the Bristol accent that Edward once heard out of Thatch, but it's not not that either. He shakes his head a little, ruefully.]

Somewhat? [His experience of piracy is...a little bit different from Kate's view of it.] Aye, I saw people who wore eye patches. I myself used to carry around a couple of officer's rapiers when I was younger. But we didn't bury treasure often—we'd sell it instead and spend the profits however we pleased. [And usually those profits would be gone in a flash. Pirates didn't tend to be very thrifty people.] And that was if we found any treasure, we usually just took goods from whatever ship happened to be unlucky enough to cross our path.

[At swordpoint, often, but he doesn't dwell on that point more than he has to. Kate doesn't need to know all the details.

A beat.]

Never heard someone say something like that, though—avast maties, and all that. I'm sorry to disappoint.

[castitas]

[ She nods. Not to worry, she's definitely listening to them. Mr Goodsir and Lieutenant Little are two men who's opinion she highly respects, and she does take on board what they've been saying. Not to mention they... kind of know all about this. You know... surviving in places like this.

Honestly, it's not very often that she gets the chance to talk to pirates. She is... disappointed about the not burying treasure all that much. She is a little quiet about the whole... stealing thing, though. She's not here to judge. He did say he'd left that life behind now. ]

I guess it kinda makes sense to just... sell it, rather than burying it. [ But gosh, no 'avast maties'? That's a terrible shame. She does raise an eyebrow in questioning. ]

... Not even a 'yo-ho'—? Or... what about drinking rum? Is that a thing?

[ Surely that's a thing. ]

What... made you stop being a pirate, in the end? To be a merchant instead?

[jackdawvision]

I did dig up buried treasure, now and again, but it weren't like I was stumbling over a map and a chest every day. More like... [Scratching at his chin.] Every few months, I think.

I've never heard someone say yo-ho in my life. [Sorry! But he does confirm:] But we drank a lot of rum, so aye, that's a thing that I don't recommend anymore.

[Spoken like someone who used to be an alcoholic himself. Still is, to some degree, although he's been dry for a while now. And as for that question...he goes quiet again, thinking over how to tell her without giving away what else pushed him to leave that life behind him.]

I found out about my daughter. [A breath.] My wife and I had gotten married before I left Bristol, but I hadn't known she'd had a child in her belly when I did. I didn't know about her for—for too long. [Nine years. Nine whole years.] If I had known—I like to think I might've come home earlier than I did. [Deep in his heart, though, he wonders if he really would've, or if he'd have used it as an excuse to fuel his ambitions.] When I did find out, though, I knew I couldn't leave her without a father. So I took the pardon, and sailed back home.

[castitas]

I think that might still count. [ Totally counts. It's still digging up buried treasure! Her nose wrinkles up a little, though: a lot of rum. She's seen plenty of her peers rolling up to class pretty trashed after some mid-week parties. She definitely knows that a lot of something was getting drunk. Still, there's a tiny smile. ]

Well, I guess there's no worry there. I don't drink, anyways. Except a sip of wine at church. [ Which is totally different. But yes, rest assured there's no need to warn her off of drinking rum, or anything for that matter. ] It sucks that pirates don't actually say 'yo-ho', though. Although it does make me wonder where that actually came from?

[ It makes her wonder where a lot of the pirate stuff actually comes from because it's so much more different than what she thought, apparently.

She's quiet for a little while as she listens, her expression thoughtful. ]

... I know you can't take it back. You didn't know. [ As he said, he hasn't know his wife was pregnant when he left. ] But... it counts that you came back and chose to change. It counts for a whole lot.