ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-11-20 17:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, henry townshend, killian jones (captain hook) |
Who: Killian Jones, Henry Townshend
What: A day out at sea and a pirate's life for them
When: Recently!
Where: The Jolly Roger
Rating/Warnings: Mostly safe
Status: Complete
Henry had been to see the Jolly Roger a couple of times since it had arrived (in different pieces, no less), but every time he laid eyes on it, he was a little awestruck. Ok, if we’re being honest here, he was quite awestruck. But, really, how often did one get to see an actual authentic pirate ship in their lives? The only thing Henry could really compare it to was the USS Constitution, which Henry’s grandfather used to take him to the years he spent with his mother. It had been something of a tradition for the old man and his grandson while he’d been alive. But it really wasn’t a fair comparison. The two ships were absolutely nothing alike. Still, being onboard Killian’s ship somehow managed to bring back memories of those summer days spent in Boston, one of the very few memories of Henry’s childhood he could be even a little nostalgic about. There was also just something about being onboard a ship. The rock of waves lapping the sides, salty breezes ruffling sails and flags and the hard back-breaking work to keep the ship moving forward under the control of the crew was enough to explain – to Henry at least – why men (and women) fell in love with the sea. Henry prided himself in the fact that even though it sometimes took him a little bit to get his sea legs (he wasn’t a graceful sort, even on dry land), he had never once gotten sea sick. The Jolly Roger was a beauty, wasn’t she? A beauty that happened to be made of wood (enchanted wood, no less), and so that meant regular cleaning - it was called careening back in the days of piracy, when a prime spot rife with fresh water and fruit trees was selected, all the cargo rowed ashore in the longboat, and then the actual ship also pulled ashore with nothing but rope and human strength. After that, dirt, seaweed, and barnacles were removed from the bottom of the ship, the shipworms killed off - having these buggers eat away into the wood meant your vessel would be like a floating coffin; no one wanted a honeycomb for a hull. Merchants cleaned their ships too, but far less often - it cut into running cargo to and fro. Just another reason why pirates, honest scallywags, were far superior. These days, it was a lot easier - the cleaning of the bottom of the ship could be done during dry dock. But Killian sort of liked scrubbing the topdeck out here under the sun; it was a job that took him back to the better days he dreamed of. “Whenever we’d drag the ship ashore, we’d use it as an excuse for a party,” he said, hauling buckets onto the topdeck. “Roast all sorts of meat, the prostitutes came in droves - “ Erm, not that he was suggesting that now, “...I recently threw a party but might do it again, just because. Things have been rough lately. But what do you say, want to help scrub things down? The cannons could use some cleaning too.” Henry smirked faintly at Killian’s little story. He knew better than to think that the dear ol’ captain was entertaining prostitutes. But a party? Yeah, that sounded like a pretty good idea. Orange County as a whole seemed to be fairly quiet - at least no one had become their Halloween costumes this year. No demon horses for Henry, no waking up in the middle of a park with grass in his teeth. That wasn’t to say that things were necessarily going smoothly, either. So a party? A chance to relax and drink himself silly? Yeah, a damn good idea. So was doing some work as well, being productive and all that. Henry nodded and reached for one of the buckets. “Sure, Captain, I’d be glad to do something pretty normal.” Or as normal as swabbing the deck of a pirate ship could be. In the scheme of things, swabbing a pirate ship deck was...relatively normal. Killian wouldn’t knock it though - after spending Halloween caught in the dark mire of his head, a laser-eyed trajectory on revenge against a man he hadn’t met in this world (and thankfully so), he’d rather not revisit those shadowy places again. Not when he’d worked so hard at putting it all behind him, and laying those old bones to rest. “After this, we’ll check on what I’ve got brewing below deck - it’s sort of aging in oaken barrels, we’ll call it grog,” he said, and that was probably a codeword for ‘alcohol that could strip paint off of the walls.’ But oh so deliciously tasty. He had a mop or two, scrubbers, and a solution that would be good at cleaning the enchanted wood, which he squirted into buckets (squirt was such an awful word, wasn’t it?) along with some water to mix it all up. “How’ve you been anyway, first mate? How’s the lady love?” he wanted to know. It’d been awhile since Henry had been around - and that always concerned Killian. Not many lived in a flat that could very well eat them. “I didn’t turn into a demon horse on Halloween this year,” Henry said as he took a mop, “so that’s a plus.” He dunked the mop into one of the buckets and became to swab the deck. “Otherwise?” Henry didn’t even pause or look up, “it’s pretty much the status quo, I guess. Chloe and I are doing well. We got into an argument over our dreams. I overreacted to her using her powers and she called me out on a few stupid decisions of my own. But we managed to work it out and I think we’re stronger for it.” More water for the mop. “I figured out what was causing my apartment to be haunted. Actually, Regina figured out that it’s the doll I got. If I leave her behind too often and I come home to a mess. So I have to take her with me wherever I go, and even then the hauntings still occur. Regina also told me that the Hole in my bathroom will probably follow me if I ever move out of the apartment. So...that’s a thing.” More mop water. “Which would have been fine, I guess, if it was just me. But now it’s me and Chloe. I’d like one day to maybe move in together? But, I don’t know if that’s really a possibility with Satan’s Asshole in the bathroom.” The spot Henry was scrubbing was about as clean as it was going to get so he moved on. “We got a cat,” he said. “Its name is Craven and for now he lives with Chloe because Apartment. I’m also trying to pick up more freelance work if I can. Still want to be able to open my own studio at some point.” Good lord, that was a lot - but Killian had essentially asked for an update. And he liked the thoroughness. “Arguments happen - it’s how you handle them as a couple that matters. Christ, I sound like Dr. Phil,” he chuckled roughly, working arm muscles to get at a particularly troublesome spot - and what a grand day it was too, for once it felt like autumn and not some pathetic substitute. The sun was shining, as usual, but the temperature felt like the actual number and not that plus 100% humidity. “I don’t know though, mate,” his brow furrowed in thought and he glanced up, squinting, the smudges of kohl helping to protect those ice blue eyes from the glare of the sun off the water. “Perhaps once you stop dreaming new dreams, that hole will disappear? I can’t imagine it sticking around forever and following you even after you start getting repeats. Though not certain about the doll - you might need some heavy duty ghostbusters to dispose of it.” Well, destroying it seemed like a risk he’d be willing to take but that was up to Henry. Henry glanced towards Killian. “Maybe I should start calling you Dr. Captain,” he said with a smirk before turning his attention back to what he was doing, mostly so he wouldn’t inadvertently tread on a spot he’d just cleaned. “As for Satan’s Asshole?” He shrugged noncommittally, “Maybe? From what Regina said, though, it sounds as though it’s a permanent deal. Plus there’s no way of knowing if I’ll even stop Dreaming. I’ve seen people post on the network that they’ve reached a conclusion only for them to start up again with a brand new set. Leon even started all over from the beginning with minor variations.” More mop water, thank you. “And the doll...well…” he paused for a moment and looked up kind of sheepishly, “this is going to sound fucking crazy, and I probably am crazy, but I’m kind of...attached to it? When it showed up everyone on the network told me to burn it. But I couldn’t. It meant something. You know how some people have like a certain object from when they were young that holds some kind of sentimental value? It was kinda like that and I’d never had anything like that before. I didn’t understand why at the time. It’s not my doll, but I think I do now. And even though I know it’s responsible for haunting my apartment, I still feel the same way about it.” He squinted a little in the sun and took a deep breath of fresh sea air. “I did try to burn it though,” he went on. “Regina was there in case things went all Annabelle’s Playtime, but it wouldn’t burn. I can’t get rid of it in my Dreams either, so I think I’m pretty much stuck with it.” Back to swabbing the enchanted deck. The pause after he’d dunked the mop in the bucket had caused a rather large puddle that was coming dangerously close to Henry’s feet. “What about you, Captain?” He asked. “I saw Kenzi the other day. She asked me to be the photographer for Bo’s wedding and we caught up a little bit, but she didn’t say much about what you specifically were up to.” That was just bloody bizarre - the whole Satan’s bumhole idea being a constant nuisance, anyway. Surprisingly enough, Killian understood being attached to something that may be considered strange to some. He felt that way about his hook, for example. “If you want to keep the doll, then by all means - sometimes the unexpected happens. Though I suppose it’s difficult because you’ve got your lady to think about too,” he said. “If it were just you, then alright, you’d find a way to live with a doll that haunts your flat and a hole in your bathroom. But like you said, it’s preventing you from moving in together. It might not be an issue now, but it will be later.” There had to be a way to rid one’s self of those rather creepy dream gifts that had latched on like a limpet - depended how far the lad was willing to go to try, in Killian’s opinion. Like he said, it could always be an issue later - something to keep in mind. Sometimes he made sense. “What am I up to? Not much besides changing nappies and sleepless nights. Being a parent is rather difficult,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t change it though, and I know Regina wanted this.” His crooked grin turned into a casual smirk, as he observed Henry, and he leaned on the mop for a moment. “You’re good at this, by the way - swab many decks before?” “I’d say yes,” Henry said, “but I’d be worried about the haunting to be transferred to you and honestly, that’s the last thing you need, right now. You know, being a parent and all. Probably’s not good for a little kid’s mental state for a zombie ghost to come crawling out of wall tumors or blood to pour out of a faucet that randomly turns on.” And there was no telling if, like the hole, the doll wouldn’t somehow find its way back to Henry somehow anyway. Or throw some kind of tantrum and make things even worse for everyone involved. No, it was better for Henry to deal with it alone than expect his friends to, yet again, bail him out of trouble. “It’s like Chloe says. These things will occasionally happen to either one of us at any given time. Ghosts showing up, my apartment being haunted. But Chloe and I are a team and whatever comes we’ll figure it out together.” He smiled over at Killian, “Thanks for the offer, though. So...parenthood suits you, huh and you and Regina are happy. I’m really glad to hear that parenthood suits you. Especially after everything that’s happened this year, you know?” Henry nudged his bucket with his foot as he moved on to another part of the deck. He glanced down at the mop. So apparently he had unknown deck-swabbing skills. Who’d have thought? He shrugged. “My grandfather had this thing for ships. He used to take me to see the USS Constitution in the summer whenever I was at my mother’s. He talked about sailing and what it was like to be out on the open water, but I don’t know if ever actually sailed.” Settle down, boyo, Killian wasn’t exactly offering to house that bloody demonic bumhole - though he would be far too stubborn to not figure out a way to purge all that nonsense. This Captain had, once upon a time, felt utterly trapped. He’d been held back from things like life and love by enough darkness in his hemisphere - no need to have it there gleefully watching while he took a piss. But if Henry and his lady were comfortable having a Highway to Hell in their potentially shared loo, more power to them. “Aye, it’s indeed been a rough year,” he agreed. “Meara’s the light in all the mess, however. You ought to come by and meet her - no doubt we’ll host you for dinner too.” It’d give the fellow a break from the terrors of his flat as well? Perhaps Killian didn’t have the skills to fix that situation completely, but he could at least offer this. “Your grandfather sounds like a wise man,” he nodded. “Though I believe you’ve got to experience sailing - what about now? Have you got immediate plans?” “I’ll come by and meet Maera soon,” Henry promised with a small smile. He did pretty alright with small children, babies included. Two years taking family portraits at the Picture Palace had pretty much demanded that he interacted with children. As a whole, children were actually easier to deal with than adults in Henry’s experience. And speaking of his former job as a lens jockey…”Do you and Regina want a family portrait taken?” Henry asked. “Like, you, Regina, Meara, Henry and Kenzi all together?” That would be nice, right? Henry could take the photo, make a large print, go out and get it framed all nice for the little family to have on their wall, or wherever they wanted to put it. A sail sounded kind of nice. Henry glanced at his watch. He had a few hours to kill, so why the hell not? “No plans for the next few hours,” Henry said. “So now is a pretty good time, Captain.” Family portrait. That sounded like a nice idea - and it wasn’t something Killian ever had before (mostly because, what family?). “I think we’d love one. And you really ought to start looking at spaces for your studio, mate. Let’s just say I watch a lot of late night shit on the telly now, and I saw a do-it-yourself thing where someone turned a backyard shed into a photography studio - it doesn’t need to cost a lot of money, I’m sure.” But if you had a dream, go for it - you only lived once, no? Well. Twice in Killian’s case, sort of. Perhaps if Henry found a new place for his photography, eventually he could just spend more and more time there, maybe make it livable. While keeping the same hole-infested flat. Did that count as getting rid of it, moving but not technically? Maybe it could be outsmarted. Tricky asshole. But anyway, he was all set for a brief day trip out at sea. “The longboat can be rigged to sail,” he said, heading in that direction. “I’ll lower it to the water and we’ll climb down - though first, head to the galley and get us some fresh water and...how about some bait? We’ll see what we can catch.” Fishing was something Henry had done with his grandfather, though never on anything larger than a rowboat. Mostly they had cast their lines off a dock or a riverbank at one of the many lakes or rivers in Maine’s northern country. Henry hadn’t been fishing since the older man had passed away. He liked the idea of going and doing it again. It’d be interesting to see what he’d catch out in the sea. “Yeah, that sounds like fun,” Henry smiled. “You want to go now or finish up with this?” He gestured towards the bucket of water with the mop still in his hands. “Let’s go now, shall we? This will be waiting for us later,” Killian said, referring to the work on the deck. After a day of sailing though, they’d likely be too knackered to get back to it but that was alright. Henry was always welcome back on the Roger, or Killian would finish on his own some other time. You did make time for the important things, after all. |