battle_scarred (battle_scarred) wrote in v_nocturne_rpg, @ 2009-07-27 22:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | joachim zahavi |
A New Shore
He'd never seen England before this.
Standing near the railing of the ship as it docked, Joachim looked down at the pier and then outwards towards the waiting families and friends where they'd gathered to greet other passengers. Father was down there somewhere, he knew, waiting for him to disembark. They had exchanged numerous letters before his arrival; he had first written the man while he was still in hospital. He and Frederick had always had a polite relationship with one another, if only because his mother meant so much to both of them. She was the glue that held them together, and without her it was likely that they'd not be able to tolerate one another at all.
The Major was wearing his dress uniform, which he'd had cleaned and pressed before leaving India. If nothing else, he would set foot on British soil for the first time as if he were still a soldier. His cane was next to him, propped up on the railing with the sun glinting off of the silver handle. Joachim despised the cane, a symbol of his weakened condition, but his leg demanded the use of it. The fallen horse may have saved his life from the snapping-snarling-slavering jaws of his attackers, but the time pinned beneath the dead animal had almost left him a cripple. His leg was recovering, but not fast enough for his liking.
He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. There had been no sleep last night, and he'd prowled around his cabin until dawn. If he could not find a bottle of something, tonight was likely to be no different. It worried him, this lack of peaceful slumber without alcohol, but then a great many things worried him these days. He would have to see if he couldn't acquire something once he had his feet on dry land again.
The ship's whistle sounded, and Joachim reluctantly took his cane and began to head towards the gangway which had been set out. He dreaded seeing his father, or rather, he dreaded letting his father see him as he was now. Weakened, unable to get about entirely on his own. Unmanned. He had never been so conscious of being born on the wrong side of the sheets before. Still, Frederick had insisted he finish his convalescence in his home, and that was something. A very small something, perhaps, but something.
Standing head and shoulders above most of the crowd, he began the slow walk down the gangway, mentally making a list of the likely places he should search for information. England certainly must be less steeped in superstition than India, and if there were answers to be found, he would likely find them here. It obsessed him, he supposed, the need to know, as if that would give him back what he'd lost. As if he could become whole again.
Shouts of greeting surrounded him, and after nearly fifteen minutes of waiting Joachim noticed Frederick looking the crowd over. The Major pulled himself up to his full impressive height, balanced his weight carefully so that he wouldn't hobble too much when he walked. "Father!" A verbal slip, and one he might regret later, since he rarely used the term in public, but in this case his tension and weariness had distracted him.
"Joachim!" There had always been a formality between them, and even after a fairly long time between visits the two of them exchanged a solemn handshake there on the dock. His father was going gray, his once-dark hair gradually silvering at the temples. "Your mother couldn't come," the Englishman said. "But she awaits you at home."
"Of course, sir. I look forward to seeing her again." He also looked forward to sitting down. God's blood, not even an hour on his feet and already his leg was complaining. He would have to speak to a physician, see if this was normal. After a short pause, Joachim said, "I've taken the liberty of arranging the delivery of my trunks to your address. I did not bring very much with me, I hope it will not be a bother."
"Ah, yes, of course. Plenty of room, you'll not be in the way." Frederick's eyes dropped briefly to the cane, and his shoulders pulled back a notch. "I've ordered a carriage," he said gruffly, averting his gaze to look down the pier. "Your mother would like us home for a proper dinner, and the day grows late."
"Thank you, sir." Joachim knew this was as much of a concession as he'd get from the man, and yet it lightened his burden somewhat. He would not be an invalid forever, after all. The two of them started off in the direction of the carriages that awaited their fares. The Major wondered what awaited him other than more sleepless nights and long wasted days of looking for answers about what had befallen him.