Honoria Crabb (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pointofhonoria) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-03-17 03:25 am
pointofhonoria) wrote in come_sailaway2023-03-17 03:25 am
And I'm tryin' my best to believe in the best left in me [OPEN]
Who: Honoria Crabb & you!
What: Mostly memshare
When: March
Where: Memories & the Serena Eterna
Warnings: Nothing really to start off, added as we go
Notes: Feel free to flip me to brackets I am comfortable with either style. The only prompt with any particularly notable risk of death is Prosperity Bridge, and only if things get screwed up majorly.
1. Oh your cryin's a test of the veins, of my fluid beliefs [4v1 fight, day she met Tom Broadfoot]
Gallery, in the dead of winter. New South Gallery Orphanage, or, more accurately the burned down husk of the old orphanage next door. The ground is covered in a thick layer of snow and there are children playing in places they shouldn't be, but none have strayed within the fenced off perimeter that Crabb is currently exploring.
She doesn't notice the arrival of four other adults until they're already there with her, two coming from the same gap in the fence she did and two more coming from behind her. The two men behind her are nondescript thugs she doesn't recognise, but the ginger woman and tall man are a different story.
"Y'know, I'm actually glad to see you two. Felt like I left a job half-done back at the bulletin—"
"Ooh, sounds like fun," the ginger woman taunts, "but I was thinking instead that Cork and the fellas here could go ahead and stomp you into something a little more lumpy. Something to show your boss at City Hall he needs to keep his beak out. And for me?" She pulls out a knife, holding it up like a demonstration. Crabb grits her teeth, already squaring up for a fight that only seems inevitable. "Well, see, I met this Lady back in the pen, and she's paying out large to anybody who can put another scar on that big face of yours. And I'm saving up for a new flat."
It's then that the four legbreakers move, and Crabb has to think fast to avoid getting killed right here and now.
2. When people burn bridges, the rivers, they don't seem to mind [Prosperity Bridge, the night it collapses]
Prosperity Bridge. Eight minutes to nine o'clock.
Prosperity is a hub for the rich socialites of Gallery. Fine dining, high-end shopping, a place to show off and be shown off to; a place for the upper crust to socialise and hold themselves separate from the rest of the city around them. A place that is mere minutes away from crumbling out from under their feet.
Unbeknownst to anyone here tonight, there is already a fight for their lives ongoing in the clock tower. A fight that will ultimately only end partially in their favour, preventing the bridge from collapsing quite as quickly as the Black Note intends.
Well. One person outside that clock-tower knows. Crabb arrives in a skidding frenzy, automobile coming to a screeching stop across from the tower and in front of an employee. She clambers out of the car, looking up toward the tower.
"E-Excuse me! Ma'am you cannot park your automobile here—" The poor employee protests, only for her to shut the door. "Ma'am! I said—"
But Crabb's distracted, listening to a strange, high-pitched eeeeeeeeeee sound coming from above, "Wait. Shut up. I know that sound—" Right then, a spiderweb crack appears between the 7 and 8 marks on the clock, and without a second more to waste Crabb turns and grabs the guy by his collar. "Listen to me. You gotta take me to your manager's office right bleedin' now. 'Cause there's a real good chance this bridge's minutes are numbered."
3. There's a violence I've found, in the regular things left behind [Margrave Ballroom Fundraiser, date with Tom]
The Margrave Building Ballroom. Extravagant and lustrous and filled with members of Gallerian High Society milling around discussing the latest theories about Lavender Jack, the Black Note and frankly paying very little attention to the supposed point of the evening: fundraising for the South Gallery Orphanage.
Honoria Crabb and Tom Broadfoot stand out like a sore thumb, sat where they are at the bar, dressed in police dress-blues and a cheap suit that don't match up to the glamour of those around them. Both even look like they feel out of place, sticking by each other and generally keeping out of the way rather than mingling.
"Cute," Crabb sneers, watching the politicians on stage. "Not every day you see a wolf making nice with a bear."
"Plenty of livestock to go around, I guess," Tom sighs, and Crabb snorts a grim laugh.
4. And I'm tryin' my best to believe in the best left in me [Bastrop Manor] (Sols will hop in to play Ducky, unless someone has any objections to a 3-way!)
It's two in the morning, and Crabb and Ducky are waiting for Bastrop to return from a mission, of sorts. Crabb seems fairly comfortable, here, with her police uniform's jacket shed, her tie tossed aside, and her sleeves rolled up where she and Ducky have been playing chess between cups of coffee. Speculative chatter about parts of the case has been most of the fare tonight, though Crabb's found herself drifting more and more into more mundane topics the more tired she gets.
They are the only people in this entire manor, hidden away in the canopy with a giant telescope and Bastrop's tools. The mansion is expansive and silent.
Until, of course, you arrive.
5. Oh this world is a mess [Blue Horsehoe Pub, mundane day]
In this memory, Crabb looks the closest to the Crabb that everyone knows from the boat. No police uniform, no skirts, just her go-to white button down, brown trousers with suspenders and her trenchcoat draped over the stool underneath her. Her tie is loosened a little and she's at ease, at the bar, wielding a glass of mid-tier whiskey and chatting occasionally with the tall, muscular blonde man who serves as the place's bartender.
It's a matter of business, more than it really is about relaxation; Ducky isn't here to come and gather information that Masters has picked up anymore, so while Johnny continues to run the high-society end of things, Crabb's taken to coming down to the Blue Horseshoe to see if there's anything they need to know.
It is, however, still one of the few things she does that comes close to taking any time off, during this stretch of her life. And there's space at the bar beside her.
6. But it's prettier, than what lies beneath [Serena Eterna]
Crabb is trying her best to hide the fact that this 'reality breaking apart at the seams' thing is actually shaking her up more than she'd be proud to admit. There's a part of her that can't help but wonder if this is her doing, at least in part, what with Friday MIA thanks to her actions and after she smudged the sigils in the first place. Sure, there's the whole feeding a corpse to a ghost thing, and who knows what else, but...
So, she's doing what she does best. Bury it in other work. She tries to keep track of memories she's been into or had entered, she tries to see if there's any sort of pattern (not as far as she can see), she even tries to dip back into her project writing up the story of Lavender Jack, but she's still a bit all over the place no matter what she does.
Find her in any of her usual spots around the ship, places like Windjammer or the Drunken Sailor, Tauva, the Library, the gym and sports deck, or just around.
7. Oh where do I go from here [wildcard]
Find me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
bluecitrine or at artisticblueteam#5757/in the discord.
What: Mostly memshare
When: March
Where: Memories & the Serena Eterna
Warnings: Nothing really to start off, added as we go
Notes: Feel free to flip me to brackets I am comfortable with either style. The only prompt with any particularly notable risk of death is Prosperity Bridge, and only if things get screwed up majorly.
1. Oh your cryin's a test of the veins, of my fluid beliefs [4v1 fight, day she met Tom Broadfoot]
Gallery, in the dead of winter. New South Gallery Orphanage, or, more accurately the burned down husk of the old orphanage next door. The ground is covered in a thick layer of snow and there are children playing in places they shouldn't be, but none have strayed within the fenced off perimeter that Crabb is currently exploring.
She doesn't notice the arrival of four other adults until they're already there with her, two coming from the same gap in the fence she did and two more coming from behind her. The two men behind her are nondescript thugs she doesn't recognise, but the ginger woman and tall man are a different story.
"Y'know, I'm actually glad to see you two. Felt like I left a job half-done back at the bulletin—"
"Ooh, sounds like fun," the ginger woman taunts, "but I was thinking instead that Cork and the fellas here could go ahead and stomp you into something a little more lumpy. Something to show your boss at City Hall he needs to keep his beak out. And for me?" She pulls out a knife, holding it up like a demonstration. Crabb grits her teeth, already squaring up for a fight that only seems inevitable. "Well, see, I met this Lady back in the pen, and she's paying out large to anybody who can put another scar on that big face of yours. And I'm saving up for a new flat."
It's then that the four legbreakers move, and Crabb has to think fast to avoid getting killed right here and now.
2. When people burn bridges, the rivers, they don't seem to mind [Prosperity Bridge, the night it collapses]
Prosperity Bridge. Eight minutes to nine o'clock.
Prosperity is a hub for the rich socialites of Gallery. Fine dining, high-end shopping, a place to show off and be shown off to; a place for the upper crust to socialise and hold themselves separate from the rest of the city around them. A place that is mere minutes away from crumbling out from under their feet.
Unbeknownst to anyone here tonight, there is already a fight for their lives ongoing in the clock tower. A fight that will ultimately only end partially in their favour, preventing the bridge from collapsing quite as quickly as the Black Note intends.
Well. One person outside that clock-tower knows. Crabb arrives in a skidding frenzy, automobile coming to a screeching stop across from the tower and in front of an employee. She clambers out of the car, looking up toward the tower.
"E-Excuse me! Ma'am you cannot park your automobile here—" The poor employee protests, only for her to shut the door. "Ma'am! I said—"
But Crabb's distracted, listening to a strange, high-pitched eeeeeeeeeee sound coming from above, "Wait. Shut up. I know that sound—" Right then, a spiderweb crack appears between the 7 and 8 marks on the clock, and without a second more to waste Crabb turns and grabs the guy by his collar. "Listen to me. You gotta take me to your manager's office right bleedin' now. 'Cause there's a real good chance this bridge's minutes are numbered."
3. There's a violence I've found, in the regular things left behind [Margrave Ballroom Fundraiser, date with Tom]
The Margrave Building Ballroom. Extravagant and lustrous and filled with members of Gallerian High Society milling around discussing the latest theories about Lavender Jack, the Black Note and frankly paying very little attention to the supposed point of the evening: fundraising for the South Gallery Orphanage.
Honoria Crabb and Tom Broadfoot stand out like a sore thumb, sat where they are at the bar, dressed in police dress-blues and a cheap suit that don't match up to the glamour of those around them. Both even look like they feel out of place, sticking by each other and generally keeping out of the way rather than mingling.
"Cute," Crabb sneers, watching the politicians on stage. "Not every day you see a wolf making nice with a bear."
"Plenty of livestock to go around, I guess," Tom sighs, and Crabb snorts a grim laugh.
4. And I'm tryin' my best to believe in the best left in me [Bastrop Manor] (Sols will hop in to play Ducky, unless someone has any objections to a 3-way!)
It's two in the morning, and Crabb and Ducky are waiting for Bastrop to return from a mission, of sorts. Crabb seems fairly comfortable, here, with her police uniform's jacket shed, her tie tossed aside, and her sleeves rolled up where she and Ducky have been playing chess between cups of coffee. Speculative chatter about parts of the case has been most of the fare tonight, though Crabb's found herself drifting more and more into more mundane topics the more tired she gets.
They are the only people in this entire manor, hidden away in the canopy with a giant telescope and Bastrop's tools. The mansion is expansive and silent.
Until, of course, you arrive.
5. Oh this world is a mess [Blue Horsehoe Pub, mundane day]
In this memory, Crabb looks the closest to the Crabb that everyone knows from the boat. No police uniform, no skirts, just her go-to white button down, brown trousers with suspenders and her trenchcoat draped over the stool underneath her. Her tie is loosened a little and she's at ease, at the bar, wielding a glass of mid-tier whiskey and chatting occasionally with the tall, muscular blonde man who serves as the place's bartender.
It's a matter of business, more than it really is about relaxation; Ducky isn't here to come and gather information that Masters has picked up anymore, so while Johnny continues to run the high-society end of things, Crabb's taken to coming down to the Blue Horseshoe to see if there's anything they need to know.
It is, however, still one of the few things she does that comes close to taking any time off, during this stretch of her life. And there's space at the bar beside her.
6. But it's prettier, than what lies beneath [Serena Eterna]
Crabb is trying her best to hide the fact that this 'reality breaking apart at the seams' thing is actually shaking her up more than she'd be proud to admit. There's a part of her that can't help but wonder if this is her doing, at least in part, what with Friday MIA thanks to her actions and after she smudged the sigils in the first place. Sure, there's the whole feeding a corpse to a ghost thing, and who knows what else, but...
So, she's doing what she does best. Bury it in other work. She tries to keep track of memories she's been into or had entered, she tries to see if there's any sort of pattern (not as far as she can see), she even tries to dip back into her project writing up the story of Lavender Jack, but she's still a bit all over the place no matter what she does.
Find her in any of her usual spots around the ship, places like Windjammer or the Drunken Sailor, Tauva, the Library, the gym and sports deck, or just around.
7. Oh where do I go from here [wildcard]
Find me at
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Yeah, you are," Crabb says, in the kind of firm tone she has when she's clearly made up her mind about something. "Sounds like the only reason this won't affect you is 'cause you ain't wherever she's come from, but if she can be here and drink tea and change this? Then it's real. Hell, if this was just a bleedin' memory, if you weren't real enough to matter, where the Hell would everything you've said about me come from? I didn't have a Goddamned clue you thought any of that. ...wasn't even a hundred percent sure how much you two wanted me around at all."
no subject
"Crabb, you're here tonight because I wanted you here with me tonight. Not because it's a tactically sound decision, nor because I have a role for you in my current plans. And I had no intention of being explicit about that."
no subject
Crabb's mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again even if all that comes out at first is, "...aw, Hell, Ducks."
She really wasn't sure, even less so about Ducky than she was Bastrop. He's a bit more heart on his sleeve, ol' Mimley, whereas Ducky's got that little grey sparrow mask of hers that Crabb's always had to prod to get anywhere beneath it.
"...I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you by now, arrite? And I'm never sure how far under that skin of yours I'm seeing but it ain't for lack of trying, either."
no subject
"I do trust Mimley to come home safely. But. In the extreme case he had not, you were who I wanted beside me to consider and enact contingencies." Because Crabb makes her feel safe, grounded.
no subject
It isn't a common thing, for Honoria Crabb to be genuinely lost for words for a moment, and yet. She doesn't know quite how to read that little reaction, she doesn't really know how to process people voicing any kind of appreciation for her, and some part of her is already wondering what this future her is going to make of all of this coming out if it wasn't meant to.
"...you really are full of surprises, Ducks." That nickname upon a nickname—something else Crabb hasn't even really thought about her own use of. "He'll be fine," she adds almost reflexively, "but worst case, yeah. Y'know I'd help. And— look."
She rubs at her neck a bit. "I don't spend so much time here even once we're done talking about the case just 'cause of the heating or your cooking, y'know?"
Even in her uncertainty the manor is one of only two places she really feels something like at home or at ease, these days.