Arthur Lester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theotherright) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-11-07 11:38 pm
theotherright) wrote in come_sailaway2023-11-07 11:38 pm
[CLOSED and opens later] yes, to err is human, so don't be one
Who: Arthur, Crichton, Darcy, April. There will be open prompts in the future too but it's late and I'm so sleepy
What: Ferret Confirmed; braille lessons derailed; antimeme gossiped with
Where: Cabins, library
When: Early November
Warnings: There'll be irresponsible drinking, will add more if/when it's necessary.
[ 1. Closed to Crichton ]
When Crichton walks into his cabin, he'll find an eye-catching yellow snack bag in the middle of the floor, open and empty.
At first, one might assume that this is a case of Crichton's annoying roommate eating in there and not cleaning up after himself (not unheard of, because if he drops a wrapper or a packet or some crumbs, it can take a lot of finding again). But a second glance reveals that they are pet treats, with a big glossy picture of a happy ferret licking its chops on the front.
The bag is, we cannot stress this enough, empty but for a few crumbs.
Surely he wouldn't.
[ 2. Closed to Darcy ]
It's Monday afternoon, which means lessons in the library. On this occasion, Arthur walks through the door in the manner of a high-wire acrobat who's starting to lose their balance.
In one hand is his cane -- actually, since the last one bit the dust in the jaws of a zombie deer, his staff -- with two fingers freed to manipulate the door-handle, and three wrapped awkwardly round the staff itself. The other hand cluches the straps of two large tote bags, trying with Sisyphean determination to keep them both on his shoulder. One bag is his usual, with notes, blunt pencils, and so on. The other appears to carry about his body weight's worth in bottles of wine.
"Oh christ," he mutters, as the bags slip and pull his wrist to a weird angle, and he tries to grab at them with his right hand without 1) letting go of the cane or 2) having it hit him in the nose as it goes past. He succeeds at one. The bags are now caught with a weirdly bent hand and two fingers, and the door closes on them with an alarming clinking noise before he shoves it back open with his foot. "Nooo no, please don't break."
It's a real house of cards over here. You really get the impression that, had he lived in the right era and had working eyes, this man would have killed at Twister.
[ 3. Closed to April ]
It's not a Monday. It is barely lunchtime, but the text from Arthur that appears on April's phone still reads thusly:
What: Ferret Confirmed; braille lessons derailed; antimeme gossiped with
Where: Cabins, library
When: Early November
Warnings: There'll be irresponsible drinking, will add more if/when it's necessary.
[ 1. Closed to Crichton ]
When Crichton walks into his cabin, he'll find an eye-catching yellow snack bag in the middle of the floor, open and empty.
At first, one might assume that this is a case of Crichton's annoying roommate eating in there and not cleaning up after himself (not unheard of, because if he drops a wrapper or a packet or some crumbs, it can take a lot of finding again). But a second glance reveals that they are pet treats, with a big glossy picture of a happy ferret licking its chops on the front.
The bag is, we cannot stress this enough, empty but for a few crumbs.
Surely he wouldn't.
[ 2. Closed to Darcy ]
It's Monday afternoon, which means lessons in the library. On this occasion, Arthur walks through the door in the manner of a high-wire acrobat who's starting to lose their balance.
In one hand is his cane -- actually, since the last one bit the dust in the jaws of a zombie deer, his staff -- with two fingers freed to manipulate the door-handle, and three wrapped awkwardly round the staff itself. The other hand cluches the straps of two large tote bags, trying with Sisyphean determination to keep them both on his shoulder. One bag is his usual, with notes, blunt pencils, and so on. The other appears to carry about his body weight's worth in bottles of wine.
"Oh christ," he mutters, as the bags slip and pull his wrist to a weird angle, and he tries to grab at them with his right hand without 1) letting go of the cane or 2) having it hit him in the nose as it goes past. He succeeds at one. The bags are now caught with a weirdly bent hand and two fingers, and the door closes on them with an alarming clinking noise before he shoves it back open with his foot. "Nooo no, please don't break."
It's a real house of cards over here. You really get the impression that, had he lived in the right era and had working eyes, this man would have killed at Twister.
[ 3. Closed to April ]
It's not a Monday. It is barely lunchtime, but the text from Arthur that appears on April's phone still reads thusly:
Drinks question mark.
no subject
"Well. There was my complete lack of belief," he deadpans. With a faint grunt, he bends down and retrieves his cane. "You could call that a sticking-point. There was the unending disgust I hold for the Church's treatment of people, and the way it influences them to treat one another." Beat. "There was the lure of staying in bed on a Sunday morning."
no subject
Nobody is angrier with God than ex-Catholics.
"If it makes you feel any better, God probably doesn't believe in you either. The Church is what she is, and always has been. And also, pussy. My family used to go to midnight mass for Christmas every year, through snow, literally as long as I've been alive."
Real Catholics would never let comfort be more important than sitting on uncomfortable wooden benches and being told what to do.
no subject
"Oh."
A couple things happen that he doesn't intend: his lightheartedness thins, and his face settles for a moment into... not into the mask he came to wear around Daniel or the congregation, because unlike them, Darcy actually deserves his trust. But... into a certain bland neutrality, because good christ you'd think the most numerous and aggressive people he'd met in his life would be monsters or something but it's actually people who wouldn't let a second go by without berating him for leaving the faith. It makes you reactive after a while.
"Well."
And he doesn't put those people's words in Darcy's mouth, especially not the crueller ones; but a lot of words that he thought he'd forgotten flash across his mind again, just for a moment.
No, you know what, he's normal. He's normal. He attempts to perform a save:
"Well, that's, that's nice. I am glad your experience was good, truly."
...Hang on, isn't Darcy literally involved with another woman? Is Arthur about to learn something super unthinkably wild about the direction the Catholic church takes in the next century or so?
no subject
"I mean- I didn't say it's good, it just is what it is. It's- ehn, my family are all... It's what I grew up with. And then with the ghosts and everything, I couldn't- it's complicated."
no subject
"Right, I, I understand. It's all right, you don't have to explain. I, er..."
He fiddles with the end of his quarterstaff, getting his stride back, and deliberately speaks with more nonchalance. "Just, just one thing. In my day, we walked to midnight mass uphill through snow. Both ways." And a tiny little smile.
(Also wait what ghosts?? The Holy Spirit???)
no subject
"Mine actually was up a hill. Ehn- up a mountain. Big basilica. We used to call it the upside-down elephant because it looked like it, you needed to catch one of the strings up there. Ehn- funiculars."
A small, mournful sigh.
"You could see the whole city from up there."