nedlittlest

[nedlittlest]

Ned tilts his head to one side, before his mind catches up to Jopson's words.

I won't say anything.

It's quiet and exhausted, though sure in a way not much Edward has said tonight has been. He's looking directly at Jopson, eyes soft and tired.

// @thomas-jopson

The exhaustion of the night has caught up with him, and his greatcoat on his shoulders feels as if it is puling him down. He shucks it as he walks, his arms tangling in the fabric and almost setting his ribs on fire. He needs to sit down. He needs to. He needs to.

When he finally reaches his room, he tosses his coat onto the bed, following it himself to almost collapse onto the small berth. The movement sends a shock wave of pain through his body, and he gasps. He buries his face in his hands, taking gulping, gasping breaths, heart pounding all the while.

His fingers tug at his cravat, trying to loosen it so he can take in more air, but panic makes his fingers clumsy and the frustration and raw anxiety leaves tears pooling in his eyes. It finally comes loose, and he tosses it to the side, and for all that he can hardly hold back his tears and the way he doubles over, gasping for air, he fights to keep himself quiet. It would not do for the men to hear their acting Captain shatter.

[nedlittlest]

I was not so good to my own.

Ned gave him a soft, sorry smile, and wished that he was not quite so selfish. He wanted to keep what little he had of Cornelius, and of John as well, the little bundle of letters which hid in the back of one of his drawers. It was unfair to Graham, and Cornelius too, but Edward was a coward. A failure of a brother.

He tried to return his mind to the task at hand, sitting up in his chair and trying to meet Graham's gaze, to seem collected. Beneath the table, Neptune's head was resting on his leg, almost grounding him.

I will talk to the captain as soon as possible. Should we find someone willing to billet on Erebus, I doubt he'll have a reason to say no.

@nedlittlest

With ease the ABs of HMS Erebus hoisted the signal flags along the masts of the flagship. The message was clear, all according to the signal book shared by both Erebus and Terror: First Lieutenant asking for permission to come aboard.

[nedlittlest]

Ned stands in the doorway with a hand on the frame, and he blinks stupidly at Jopson. Did he? He wracks his mind, but nothing pressing comes to the forefront of his exhausted mind.

...Thank you.

It seems like the right thing to say, as he inclines his head slightly towards the laundry. He tries to think of anything else.

I'm sorry.

He's not quite sure what he's apologizing for, but it's probably something.

// @thomas-jopson

The exhaustion of the night has caught up with him, and his greatcoat on his shoulders feels as if it is puling him down. He shucks it as he walks, his arms tangling in the fabric and almost setting his ribs on fire. He needs to sit down. He needs to. He needs to.

When he finally reaches his room, he tosses his coat onto the bed, following it himself to almost collapse onto the small berth. The movement sends a shock wave of pain through his body, and he gasps. He buries his face in his hands, taking gulping, gasping breaths, heart pounding all the while.

His fingers tug at his cravat, trying to loosen it so he can take in more air, but panic makes his fingers clumsy and the frustration and raw anxiety leaves tears pooling in his eyes. It finally comes loose, and he tosses it to the side, and for all that he can hardly hold back his tears and the way he doubles over, gasping for air, he fights to keep himself quiet. It would not do for the men to hear their acting Captain shatter.

[nedlittlest]

The quiet tune focuses his mind somewhat, but his body throbs, and frustrated tears spring once again to his eyes. He's so tired. The only thing which keeps him from giving up and lying back onto the bed is that he is being waited upon, and he sighs sharply as he sets himself back to his task, his limbs feeling weighty as lead weights.

Once by one he struggles to tug on his stockings, and wrestling on his trousers in a sitting position is nearly as difficult and painful. He has to take several breaks as he goes, and every time he has to fight back tears. Finally, he tugs on a waistcoat and begins to button it, his chest heaving with the exertion as he tries to get his body back in order, pulling himself back together with each button.

By the time he is done, he has regained some of his composure, though as he stands to bring Jopson his previous clothes, he keeps one hand on the wall, in case his vision goes dark again. It is a smart move, and he manages to keep himself fully upright. As he pulls the door back open, he tries not to care that he hasn't bothered to retie his cravat.

// @thomas-jopson

The exhaustion of the night has caught up with him, and his greatcoat on his shoulders feels as if it is puling him down. He shucks it as he walks, his arms tangling in the fabric and almost setting his ribs on fire. He needs to sit down. He needs to. He needs to.

When he finally reaches his room, he tosses his coat onto the bed, following it himself to almost collapse onto the small berth. The movement sends a shock wave of pain through his body, and he gasps. He buries his face in his hands, taking gulping, gasping breaths, heart pounding all the while.

His fingers tug at his cravat, trying to loosen it so he can take in more air, but panic makes his fingers clumsy and the frustration and raw anxiety leaves tears pooling in his eyes. It finally comes loose, and he tosses it to the side, and for all that he can hardly hold back his tears and the way he doubles over, gasping for air, he fights to keep himself quiet. It would not do for the men to hear their acting Captain shatter.

[nedlittlest]

I'm... I'm sure you had your reasons.

It's all that Ned can think to say, but his mind catches hard on the memory of John, faded by time and yet still an ache. Grief is a hungry monster, and John Gore had been his first real taste of it - the first real friend he'd lost.

He was a good friend.

@nedlittlest

With ease the ABs of HMS Erebus hoisted the signal flags along the masts of the flagship. The message was clear, all according to the signal book shared by both Erebus and Terror: First Lieutenant asking for permission to come aboard.

[nedlittlest]

Once the door is shut, Ned shucks off his waistcoat with a hiss of pain, toeing off his boots one by one. The trousers go next, and then he is left only in his shirt and stockings. Wrenching the shirt off is more than a little painful, and the wrench of his arms sets his chest and back afire. Once his arms are free of the garment, he tosses it onto his bunk with the rest, and leans back against the wall, panting with effort.

Edward can see himself in the mirror, lamplight illuminating his bare flesh, and for the first time in the night he sees the mottled skin of his chest, turned black and blue and purple with bruises from the way the creature tossed him across the deck like a ragdoll. It looks something awful, and he turns slightly to examine his back, hissing at even the slight contortion of his body.

For a moment, his vision goes white with a lance of pain, and he has to catch himself on the small washbasin. He leans over it, the hunch of his back both relieving and painful in different ways. He does not quite trust himself to uncurl.

He toes the socks off one by one as he catches his breath above the basin. afraid that bending over would just make the pain worse. In the mirror, he can see himself, unkempt hair and muttonchops framing eyes red and exhausted- though how much of it was the lack of sleep and the exertion of the long night and how much of it was from his earlier tears, he couldn't tell. He straightens slightly, and reluctantly lets go of the edge of the basin, and tugs open his drawers for fresh clothes. The long shirt goes on first, and as he lifts his arms above his head once more to pull it down onto himself, his vision goes static, and he practically stumbles into sitting position on the bed, his vision returning to him terrifyingly slow as the blood rushes back into his head.

One - One moment, he pants, feeling utterly embarrassed for keeping Jopson waiting while he is doing something which is not even his job.

// @thomas-jopson

The exhaustion of the night has caught up with him, and his greatcoat on his shoulders feels as if it is puling him down. He shucks it as he walks, his arms tangling in the fabric and almost setting his ribs on fire. He needs to sit down. He needs to. He needs to.

When he finally reaches his room, he tosses his coat onto the bed, following it himself to almost collapse onto the small berth. The movement sends a shock wave of pain through his body, and he gasps. He buries his face in his hands, taking gulping, gasping breaths, heart pounding all the while.

His fingers tug at his cravat, trying to loosen it so he can take in more air, but panic makes his fingers clumsy and the frustration and raw anxiety leaves tears pooling in his eyes. It finally comes loose, and he tosses it to the side, and for all that he can hardly hold back his tears and the way he doubles over, gasping for air, he fights to keep himself quiet. It would not do for the men to hear their acting Captain shatter.

[nedlittlest]

Ned leans back against the wall, half to hold himself up so he would not sway on his feet, half to get further out of Mister Jopson's way. His heart is still pounding in his head, and some part of him feels like it should be audible to Jopson, tell-tale in his chest and betraying his lack of composure.

He doesn't quite have a response to the other man. He'd always heard the gossip on ships, but it was not like anyone had ever quite gossiped with him, much less made an advance. Ned had always found himself quite firmly on the outside of things, even as a Lieutenant, friendships relegated to correspondence as a boy and then passing acquaintanceship as he grew older. The thought makes him want to laugh, and in keeping it back he is sure there is some hysterical not in his eyes. He might have welcomed some dubious activity once upon a time.

Once you've collected the laundry, if you wait outside and give me a moment to change I can pass you what I have on.

// @thomas-jopson

The exhaustion of the night has caught up with him, and his greatcoat on his shoulders feels as if it is puling him down. He shucks it as he walks, his arms tangling in the fabric and almost setting his ribs on fire. He needs to sit down. He needs to. He needs to.

When he finally reaches his room, he tosses his coat onto the bed, following it himself to almost collapse onto the small berth. The movement sends a shock wave of pain through his body, and he gasps. He buries his face in his hands, taking gulping, gasping breaths, heart pounding all the while.

His fingers tug at his cravat, trying to loosen it so he can take in more air, but panic makes his fingers clumsy and the frustration and raw anxiety leaves tears pooling in his eyes. It finally comes loose, and he tosses it to the side, and for all that he can hardly hold back his tears and the way he doubles over, gasping for air, he fights to keep himself quiet. It would not do for the men to hear their acting Captain shatter.

[nedlittlest]

I am sorry for—for intruding upon your conversation with the Captain.

Ned does not know what possesses him to say this, and he has to resist the urge to slam his head back into the wall in frustration at his inability to keep quiet long enough that he does not bother Mister Jopson. Instead, he presses the balls of his hands to the too-warm sockets of his eyes, and watches stars flash on the underside of his eyelids.

It was. Personal. I should have given you your privacy.

He takes a deep breath, and winces as it shudders through him, betraying both his exhaustion and his pain.

// @thomas-jopson

The exhaustion of the night has caught up with him, and his greatcoat on his shoulders feels as if it is puling him down. He shucks it as he walks, his arms tangling in the fabric and almost setting his ribs on fire. He needs to sit down. He needs to. He needs to.

When he finally reaches his room, he tosses his coat onto the bed, following it himself to almost collapse onto the small berth. The movement sends a shock wave of pain through his body, and he gasps. He buries his face in his hands, taking gulping, gasping breaths, heart pounding all the while.

His fingers tug at his cravat, trying to loosen it so he can take in more air, but panic makes his fingers clumsy and the frustration and raw anxiety leaves tears pooling in his eyes. It finally comes loose, and he tosses it to the side, and for all that he can hardly hold back his tears and the way he doubles over, gasping for air, he fights to keep himself quiet. It would not do for the men to hear their acting Captain shatter.

[nedlittlest]

It… It could not be anything but.

Edward’s voice is a low rasp, and he thinks of the quiet horror on George’s face when the explosion came, the fear on John’s as he begged him not to leave. Watching Graham and Des Voeux be dragged by mutineers while he watched from his place on the shale. He is sure his face reflects the darkness of his thoughts, if only briefly, and he is glad that it is turned to away from the light.

// @thomas-jopson

The exhaustion of the night has caught up with him, and his greatcoat on his shoulders feels as if it is puling him down. He shucks it as he walks, his arms tangling in the fabric and almost setting his ribs on fire. He needs to sit down. He needs to. He needs to.

When he finally reaches his room, he tosses his coat onto the bed, following it himself to almost collapse onto the small berth. The movement sends a shock wave of pain through his body, and he gasps. He buries his face in his hands, taking gulping, gasping breaths, heart pounding all the while.

His fingers tug at his cravat, trying to loosen it so he can take in more air, but panic makes his fingers clumsy and the frustration and raw anxiety leaves tears pooling in his eyes. It finally comes loose, and he tosses it to the side, and for all that he can hardly hold back his tears and the way he doubles over, gasping for air, he fights to keep himself quiet. It would not do for the men to hear their acting Captain shatter.

[nedlittlest]

Of course.

Ned comes to the door and tries to steady himself, a practiced blank expression drawing itself across his face. He had always been good at making his distress plausibly deniable, and in the low lamplight his face will be shadowed. Mister Jopson has no need to deal with his melodrama.

It takes him a moment longer to bring his hand to the handle and open the door, stepping to the side. He carefully does not look at Jopson, and tries to put himself out of the other man’s way, and hopes the man does not comment on his state of dress, the discarded articles tossed carelessly upon his berth.

// @thomas-jopson

The exhaustion of the night has caught up with him, and his greatcoat on his shoulders feels as if it is puling him down. He shucks it as he walks, his arms tangling in the fabric and almost setting his ribs on fire. He needs to sit down. He needs to. He needs to.

When he finally reaches his room, he tosses his coat onto the bed, following it himself to almost collapse onto the small berth. The movement sends a shock wave of pain through his body, and he gasps. He buries his face in his hands, taking gulping, gasping breaths, heart pounding all the while.

His fingers tug at his cravat, trying to loosen it so he can take in more air, but panic makes his fingers clumsy and the frustration and raw anxiety leaves tears pooling in his eyes. It finally comes loose, and he tosses it to the side, and for all that he can hardly hold back his tears and the way he doubles over, gasping for air, he fights to keep himself quiet. It would not do for the men to hear their acting Captain shatter.

[nedlittlest]

Ned sat up, and tried for a moment to get his shaky breathing under control, patting at his we eyes with the back of his hands - rubbing would only make his eyes red and raw. It takes him a moment to work up the composure to speak, and he pressed a hand against his side, the sharp sting of the bruises surely hidden beneath his waistcoat and shirt sending a jolt of pain like cool water through him.

Who—Who is it?

His voice comes out thick, and he hopes that it is simply attributed to exhaustion.

// @thomas-jopson

The exhaustion of the night has caught up with him, and his greatcoat on his shoulders feels as if it is puling him down. He shucks it as he walks, his arms tangling in the fabric and almost setting his ribs on fire. He needs to sit down. He needs to. He needs to.

When he finally reaches his room, he tosses his coat onto the bed, following it himself to almost collapse onto the small berth. The movement sends a shock wave of pain through his body, and he gasps. He buries his face in his hands, taking gulping, gasping breaths, heart pounding all the while.

His fingers tug at his cravat, trying to loosen it so he can take in more air, but panic makes his fingers clumsy and the frustration and raw anxiety leaves tears pooling in his eyes. It finally comes loose, and he tosses it to the side, and for all that he can hardly hold back his tears and the way he doubles over, gasping for air, he fights to keep himself quiet. It would not do for the men to hear their acting Captain shatter.

[nedlittlest]

(distant shouting) .....PUSSY!

whatcwas that

[nedlittlest]

// @thomas-jopson

The exhaustion of the night has caught up with him, and his greatcoat on his shoulders feels as if it is puling him down. He shucks it as he walks, his arms tangling in the fabric and almost setting his ribs on fire. He needs to sit down. He needs to. He needs to.

When he finally reaches his room, he tosses his coat onto the bed, following it himself to almost collapse onto the small berth. The movement sends a shock wave of pain through his body, and he gasps. He buries his face in his hands, taking gulping, gasping breaths, heart pounding all the while.

His fingers tug at his cravat, trying to loosen it so he can take in more air, but panic makes his fingers clumsy and the frustration and raw anxiety leaves tears pooling in his eyes. It finally comes loose, and he tosses it to the side, and for all that he can hardly hold back his tears and the way he doubles over, gasping for air, he fights to keep himself quiet. It would not do for the men to hear their acting Captain shatter.

[nedlittlest]

Edward wants to say something, tell the Captain to take him instead, to let Hodgson rest, but the words die in his throat. He's so tired, and his great wool coat seems to weight him down and hold him in place.

He will do as he has been ordered. Captain Crozier has ordered him to watch the ship, and as he exhales he feels his ribs almost rattle in his chest. Edward cannot disappoint him, he already has failed in so many ways.

He should find some task to do. Ned should. It's only that he is tired and he feels like he is about to peel out of his skin, and he wants to go out and search for the men he failed so badly. He feels like walking directly out into the ice into the cold and the dark and not turning back.

Edward dismisses that thought as best he can, and his breathing feels shallow and difficult. After a moment of trying to catch his breath, standing by the door of the Great Room, he moves forward without thinking, making for his cabin.

@nedlittlest raps twice at the door to the great room, and prays that he is not disturbing the Captain. After a brief moment, and no sounds from within, he speaks.

It’s Lieutenant Little, sir. Mister—

He stops himself, casting a glance back to where @thomas-jopson stands behind him.

There’s someone here who wishes to speak with you.

*Crozier had been brooding over a map of King Williamland, purposefully ignoring the knock at the door. When @nedlittlest speaks however, he groans loudly and scrubs a hand over his face.*

For Chrissake, Lieutenant, can't you handle the bloke yourself?

*He glances mournfully at the map. Back fish river is securely out of reach. There is another way, but... Crozier closes his eyes. His head aches. Despite his brief rest, he is still so... so tired.*

*Crozier thinks about the liquor cabinet, and feels a hot twist of shame like a knife to the belly. He raises his voice again.*

I'm... I have matters to attend to, lieutenant. I do not wish to be disturbed.

[nedlittlest]

Ned could not stop his flinch. Almost two years and bringing his mind back to his brother's death still felt like digging his nails into a raw wound. It had taken him a moment to process his words, but the moment his brother's name slipped from Graham's lips, they began to make sense again.

I forgot you knew him.

The words came out without conscious thought, and he wondered absently how Graham had learned - Ned certainly had been in no state to inform him. He'd never been able to repay Graham's favor.

@nedlittlest

With ease the ABs of HMS Erebus hoisted the signal flags along the masts of the flagship. The message was clear, all according to the signal book shared by both Erebus and Terror: First Lieutenant asking for permission to come aboard.

[nedlittlest]

Ah.

Ned winced in time with Graham, and tangled his fingers in Neptune's fur. A grieving brother, alone on Erebus. It plucked at Ned's heartstrings a familiar tune.

I imagine the ship is... He searched for the right phrase. I imagine it is a constant reminder of the loss.

@nedlittlest

With ease the ABs of HMS Erebus hoisted the signal flags along the masts of the flagship. The message was clear, all according to the signal book shared by both Erebus and Terror: First Lieutenant asking for permission to come aboard.

[nedlittlest]

Ned looks at him for a brief moment before nodding, and turning back to the door.

//this thread is continued here

*with a resounding thud, he makes it onto The Terror… his home at last. The trip was excruciating due to his limp and the harsh winds and cold as balls temperature.*

*hes huffing from the exertion and hes . Pissed. So pissed. He hasnt made up his mind on whether to slap his fiancaptain silly or to kiss him passionately.*

…

*maybe both*