come_sailaway | JUNE EVENT: CAMP

JUNE EVENT: CAMP

early on June 10th, Friday's morning announcements end with a request for everyone going on the latest excursion to meet her in the atrium. she seems in noticeably better spirits than she had been last time, and she leads them cheerfully to the tender. once they are all aboard, and the door is securely shut, the interior fills with gas, and, perhaps, their last thought before they slip into unconsciousness is "oh shit, not again."

passengers wake up on a rickety old school bus, driving down a dirt road surrounded by woods. what is it that they notice first? that, no matter what they were wearing before, they are now wearing a camp t-shirt and legitimately horrifyingly short shorts? the overstuffed backpack between their knees? the words "take one down and pass it around" dying on their lips? the fact that Friday is absolutely driving the bus?

or, maybe the fact that it's already slowing down, pulling up in front of a massive wooden sign, saying:

CAMP AION

when they get out of the bus, Friday is the one to divide them up into their cabin groups, and she is the one to give the counselors their very official-looking clipboards and whistles. she explains that they are in charge, and that she will be back to pick them up in a week, and... very little else. she responds to nothing outside of whatever is on her unseen little script, and she gets back on the bus shortly after, leaving them there.

welcome to camp. let's make some summer memories!

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Well. That's a slightly embarrassing thing to walk in on someone doing. Particularly when it's Blackbeard; as friendly as he's been with Stede, he still feels a little bit in awe of Ed.

Watson gives his best disarming smile, though it's slightly guarded. "Oh, you needn't stop on my account. No harm done."

Ed brandishes the knife almost close enough to trim the fucking fantastic mustache.

"Mention this to anyone and I cut out your tongue." If Ed's playing, and he might well be, he doesn't exactly let on. Does he fear this getting out? Yes. No. Ed almost thinks he fears Stede knowing more than this ruining his reputation.

Watson moves back fractionally, automatically, not quite a flinch, but the sudden rush of adrenaline has his pupils dilating. He goes very still, though the hand on his cane tightens. A twist of his hand and he could pull out the blade inside, and while he can only assume Ed's killed more people than he has, he could surely get in at least one good strike to an important bit of anatomy. The femoral artery, perhaps, or a kidney. He takes a breath.

He doesn't look away from Ed's face.

"I'm not so cavalier with men's secrets," he says. "You only had to ask."

He's underestimated you, Watson. Those are a fighter's instincts--not the classy, honed instincts of one who has trained in dojos or clubs or even in barracks, but the instincts of a man who has had to fight in order to survive, who has to measure and access a threat and respond to it quickly and accordingly. They're the instincts of a man who has seen some serious shit.

Bugger. And to think he was almost over your charms. That's kind of hot, really.

What an adventure, to think this handsome doctor might actually be a man who could kill him.

Another time.

Ed draws his blade back from the standoff, telegraphing his movements as clearly as possible. No flourishes, nothing that might trigger what is coiled to attack. Once the knife is safely tucked away, Ed shrugs as if he and Watson hadn't just had a moment where, a hairpin error could have ended one or both of their lives ...at least for this camping trip.

"You don't get far in piracy by asking nicely."

"I suppose you don't, no."

He doesn't take his eyes off Ed, not even after the knife is put away, but he relaxes, fractionally. Today, at least, won't end with the pair of them burying blades in each other. That's just fine by him, but it will take a little longer for the tension to drain out of him entirely. For now, he stands stiffly, the posture of a soldier at attention.

"But I am a man of honour, and if you feel your carving project is that ruinous to your image, well," Watson's expression softens, just a little, "I suppose that's your choice."

Seems an awful way to live, in his opinion.

Ed doesn't know why he tells Watson anything. Maybe he sort of believes that the doctor won't break confidence, or maybe he's a little offended--on his own part and Stede's. Maybe it's the adrenaline talking and the fact that they just shared a moment...of sorts.

"Appreciate it. But not just my image I'm concerned about, mate."

Sure, he's interested in not ruining his image as Blackbeard, and this is horribly embarrassing and hard to overcome. But the issue isn't because he's embarrassed by Stede (he is, sometimes, in the same way kids are embarrassed by parents but still love them, or friends by friends, etc), or embarrassed of his interest in Stede. It's that, as Lucius told him, Stede wasn't ready. It's that Stede, when he proved himself interested and ready, wasn't interested in whatever this was.

"Don't tell him."

Oh, hell. Is Watson going to be pulled into this, between these two, and have to promise not to meddle unduly? He's too much a romantic for this. He wants people to have their happy relationships, as he hasn't always been able to.

"If you insist." There's regret in his voice, despite himself. A sort of sympathy. "Though I'm sorry you feel the secrecy is necessary. You look, if you don't mind my saying so, like you need a drink, though I'm not sure where to go for that here."

Going for a drink with someone with whom you've had this sort of experience is possibly... unwise, but Watson sometimes makes very unwise decisions in these moments of adrenaline. And yes, the energy between them right now is... peculiar.

"Coffee, perhaps. Tea, I suppose, if Bonnet's taste has rubbed off on you."

Yes, Watson. This is the price you pay for knowing pirates--you get pulled into their shenanigans, whether that be raiding vessels and mutinying, or drawing flags and negotiating these two idiots' love life.

"Pretty sure booze it out of the question unless someone brought a flask." Which Ed was going to do, but then he thought he should probably be more sober if they're going to start killing each other at this camp and left it back on the ship.

"But sure, yeah. Could go for some tea, if there's milk and sugar." Best not to comment on the topic of Stede's anything rubbing off on him.

"You know, I actually didn't think I would have the chance to think about having a drink," Watson grumbles. "Certainly didn't last time. Apparently next time I'll need to come prepared."

He turns and heads in the direction of the mess hall, trusting Ed to follow him -- though he doesn't, not quite yet, completely turn his back. It's an automatic habit, half unconscious. He has to be a good deal more relaxed than this to let Ed out of his line of sight.

Watson could also use a drink, let's be honest.

Who couldn't use a drink in times like these. Maybe that's why the booze is free on the ship.

"Might be easier next time if you're sloshed."

Ed keeps pace with him, giving him more than enough space to both be aware of where Ed is and to not put himself within too close of distance of Watson's cane. In the mess, he fills up a cup with hot water and whatever tea is available, to whatever approximates the amount in one of Stede's fine china sets, before adding exactly seven sugars and a bit of milk. Ed's tastes are very specific.

Once the tea has been acquired and Ed has stopped fussing over exactly how much milk constitutes the 'dollop' Stede would usually add for him, he settles down across from Watson at a table.

Watson pours himself a coffee from the thermos, along with a splash of cream. He's calmer by now, the adrenaline fading, settling into a normal level of alertness. Which is still fairly high, all considered, but at least it looks more normal.

"I did notice you were in our cabin overnight," he says, casual. He shakes his head. "I'm a light sleeper at the best of times, you see. But you're welcome to talk about it, if you want."

He doesn't want to.

He does, but he doesn't.

It's complicated, Watson.

"Was just poking my head in to see if he was okay--" Not dead or freaking out. Stede has a history of almost dying. Ed took a sip of his tea, making something of an effort to do so with raised pinky (silly, when there's no handle), and abandoning the effort. "He said to stay, so I did. Nothing more to tell."

Never mind that he and Stede had recently kissed, and discussed whether friends can just...kiss and fuck around with each other. Or that when Ed stopped in, he wouldn't have minded if he got a goodnight kiss and was sent on his way. Nothing happened the other night, which is what Watson is asking about (without actually asking questions), so there's nothing to tell.

Oh, he understands complicated. He understands far too well.

"Kind of you," Watson says, nodding. "The two of you... well, you fight like cats, I've seen you at it, but you're also clearly very close. You care for each other deeply."

He's seen less happy marriages, to be honest. And he's very purposely not asking questions, because this is less about his own curiosity and more about letting Ed sort things out with a non-judgmental audience, if he wants.

Ed shrugs.

"I think he's interesting," he says as if brushing off the comments about caring and closeness. "Haven't known each other long, but you know--sometimes you just meet someone and they're a real special brand of crazy that just makes life more fun."

He contemplates his tea for a moment.

"Normally we get along pretty well. That fight wasn't supposed to go like that."

"I... yes. Yes, I know the feeling. Sometimes you're simply... drawn to someone."

Watson takes a breath, and then a swallow of his coffee, even if it's still slightly too hot. "And then you end up in sort of a strange orbit around him, and it ought to make you unhappier than it does, but it doesn't really. Or perhaps that's just me." He smiles, faintly.

Ed smiles bittersweetly.

"Yeah." A strange orbit. However he'll keep you around. "How can it make you unhappy when being around him's...what makes you happy, huh?" There's a sad little laugh. And there's that fucking feeling again, the one he can't escape or get rid of, the one that likes Stede so damn much.

"Fucking mental, is what it is."

"Oh, it absolutely is. I decided a long time ago just to... well, enjoy it. What else can I do with that?"

Sorry, Ed, you've ended up having drinks with the most sappily romantic man in the world. Watson shares that bittersweet smile. "Well, carving hearts in trees aside. I can't throw stones, there, I've done it myself."

"Guess so."

Well, this is his punishment for pulling a knife on Watson's mustache. But, see, now he's intrigued and invested in Watson's part of this story. Who has your literal or metaphorical tree-heart, Watson?

"Have you really... Who's the lucky son-of-a-bitch?"

Ah. Well. That's a complicated question. And what's this sudden talking about Watson's life, he didn't expect or ask for this? But opening up goes both ways, he knows that.

"I've always been the sort of man to fall in love hard, often, and wholeheartedly," he says, with only a small amount of embarrassment, "so I could probably give you a list, or at least one very unhappy tree, but the man I was thinking of... ah, well. His name is Sherlock Holmes, he was a brilliant detective, fate threw us together when, I think, we were both rather friendless and alone, and we were the closest and most intimate of friends for many years. Of course," Watson continues, "I don't think he was interested in romance with anyone at all, but I would have followed him to the ends of the earth. Even after I married, that was true."

This story sounds strikingly familiar, with names and occupations changed perhaps. The vibe's the same, anyway. Ed understands finding someone he would willingly follow to the ends of the earth regardless of other prior commitments.

"Sorry." Holmes feels like a past-tense, and not just because Watson is currently here. Is the man dead?

"How do you do the, uh," he kind of waves his hand like 'fill in the blank' before supplying: "wholeheartedly thing?"

Watson tilts his head slightly, and takes a little while to answer. He swirls the coffee in his cup. How do you answer a question like that?

He has a vague notion that Ed is, like himself, someone who builds walls around himself to keep people at arm's length. Watson's walls are all external charm and friendliness and caring aimed outwards, and Ed's are more along the lines of being a scary bastard, but they accomplish the same thing in the end. It's protective.

"I think what I mean," he says, "is that there are very few people I let see my entire soul. When I love someone, I hold nothing back. I let them see me, and I live for them as much as for myself. Their happiness is my happiness. You will be wounded, loving like that. It will hurt, and if you are parted from them you will feel you have lost a piece of your own heart. But what you get back from someone, loving like that... well. I never regret it."

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JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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