#astowsway

[sweetsunflora]

where: random hallway because emma is lost when: two days after the boatswain is found. close to midnight. who: closed for @astowsway​

the world is askew on itself and she can’t seem to find her way through this tilted parody of earth. every step she takes is unsure, uncoordinated, and her whole body is on fire. from her cheeks, to her chest, to her arms. 

she had already stumbled more than once, simply attempting to walk down this straight hall. if she stumbles again, she is convinced she will injure herself--whether it be a limb or her own fragile pride. so she does what she thinks is safest. she plops herself against the wall, a half gone bottle of whiskey in her hands and cursing the identical appearances of the Promethean’s halls. perhaps she would be better off just sleeping where she sat. there was no hope of finding her bed in her state. but then her savior comes with in the form of her roomate.

“miss sørenson!” a hiccup. “--sorry. i am so glad to see you! i’m afraid i am terribly and awfully and completely lost. i’m sorry to burden you with myself but can you bring me to our room?”

[ofpowdered]

location: wardroom.  time: several days into august.  with: @astowsway​

“i’m so glad you found your way here,” came the greeting as the other woman entered the space. an invitation had been put forth, as proper etiquette dictated, and an invitation had been answered. mrs. winifred hastings invites the woman once known as katja sørenson to mid-morning tea and conversation in the wardroom. of course, tea was never just tea. on the grand table meant for officers and only the richest, winnie made sure the whiskey also sat, innocent and ready to be touched. 

“katja hardly seems to fit you now. what might i call you?” a question that might define or strangle, offered with a teacup set in a nearby spot. “or rather --- who do you choose to be today?”  

for here was the truth of the situation, written in delightful betrayal and dramatic reveal: the little translator had finally become interesting. 

[arcticdoctor]

location: common mess time: days after the rescue with: @astowsway​ !! 

jonathan’s mother always spoke of luck as something tangible. it was what happened when the kindness someone gave to the world was returned; it was what led her to meet her husband, to have such wondrous children ( her words, certainly; not his own ). jonathan believed luck was something different: it was a series of coincidences, aligning in such a brilliant way that humans looked at it and felt nothing short of amazement. and today, it appeared, was his lucky day --- for who was standing in the common mess area but the very person he had tried, and failed, to reach out to for the past several days? the crowd seemed to part for them and them alone, and jonathan waved his arm, deciding to be bold in his move. 

“miss sørenson! miss sørenson!” he darted through the room quickly, twisting around crew members and practically hopping to the girl. he skidded to a halt only as he stood directly in front of her. “i’m so grateful to see you. my, it’s been so long --- i have no idea how, when i swear the ship isn’t that large.” it was no matter, luck was on his side today; it had to be. “sørenson... am i saying that right? i was hoping to get your opinion on something. i swear, it shall take only a moment of your time.”

[scarlxtdrops]

♣►☺?? for katja!!

♣fahra: katja lov, avoid having skirts raised ok? that was scary, i thought it was a ghost

////

► fahra: mon coeur, you need to starting hiding these sex toys better, i don’t want to even imagine what i would say if the children accidentally found them. also, please tell ettienne to stop buying drones, i can see someone losing an eye. this someone being etienne.

fahra: WRONG CHAT, SORRY

////

☺ fahra: do you want me to do your hair later this evening? your hair is so soft and silky

////

?? fahra: i know this sounds a little weird, but do you know someone that can pick locks?

[mauraudmore]

❝ despite the bad blood, i’ll have none of it on my carpet. ❞ - katja

They stare each other down, one apex predator leveling another. Katja has the slight upper hand, knife to her throat. But Violet can exact revenge just as quick, the tip of her dagger pressed where the other’s heart is. The silence drags on for minutes or hours or years. Until Katja breaks it. Despite the bad blood, I’ll have none of it on my carpet.

“I agree. Why kill each other when we can be unlikely allies? Neither one of us wants the suspicion. Perhaps a deal will benefit us both.” And yet, her blade stays and will stay until the one on her throat is removed. “On the count of three, we pull away.”

@astowsway

[apostata]

@astowsway  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘

[ravenwicked]

THE STOWAWAY AND THE RAVEN

to ruin something before it can ruin you / to open yourself up for the first time to the potential for ruin. to belive that every relationship is transactional that your value is from what you do / to believe that someone acknowledges you for the first time. to be Nice to avoid the possibility of harm / to be Nice because you no longer anticipate the harm. to be mistaken to be heartbroken to be unrequited to be selfish to be selfless.

[[ @astowsway​ ]]

[aveaugvstus]

JUNE 12TH, 1845 — 3:00AM.  THE ORLOP.  FOR @astowsway​

meet me at the orlop. three hours past midnight. 

as far as secret missives go, a torn page corner with hastily scrawled chicken scratch tucked surreptitiously into his jacket pocket is one of the more fascinating letters he’s ever received. there’s no signature or name to mark its sender but if he had to take a guess, it’d be the thief masquerading as a translater who he’d caught red-handed in media res just the other day. it had been a harmless, near victimless crime — pilfering a timepiece from one of the promethean’s more caustic, self-important guests who had much to say about the mingling of the classes in the mess room but little in the way of any solutions to his so-called predicament to offer. it would’ve been a masterfully orchestrated heist, and had august not been glancing in the direction of the pretentious gentleman at just the right moment, he might have missed it altogether.

there’d been no time to arraign her on any charge before the bells rang for dinner, but before she could vanish into the crowd surging towards the mess tables, he’d called out her name. or one of them, he supposes in retrospect. miss sørenson! and then he’d tapped twice at his bare wrist, pressed a finger to his lips as he shot her a raffish, conspiratorial wink. and so his first ever act of criminal collusion in his duty as royal marine aboard the hms promethean was committed just like that.

it’s three hours past midnight and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t on tenterbooks of bated intrigue to discover the cause of her cryptic message. by the time he steals into the orlop on soundless footsteps, there’s already a silhouette waiting for him in the shadows by he armory chests. he bites down on his smile before it can escape its leash and unfurl across his face in a burst of laughter and giddy disbelief. the thrill of a midnight rendezvous and coded cloak-and-dagger message is so flagrantly childish as to be utterly delightful. he hopes, dearly, fervently, that katja sørenson and he might become friends.

“now that your dastardly scheme to lure me here has succeeded, are you going to reveal the entirety of your master plan?”

[scarlxtdrops]

stowaway closed starter for @astowsway

location || promethean || the provision’s room

date : midnight, 16 july, 1845

Fahra knew what sin was, she had tasted it, shared it, she knew its fragrance and touch. For a long time she wouldn’t have felt ashamed of herself ( love was love, it was a pure and fragile thing to be cared and not hated. she had believed this lie once ), however after many sleepless nights she would feel the it slowly filling her heart, the feeling suffocating her. She wanted to believe that it was silly of her to be so embarrassed of drinking rum, Fahra had eaten hard meat with her fingers, propriety and privacy on an island was a hard thing to have. Still, she had never stolen something before.

It was a canteen that she found, her first intention being to leave it alone, then she thought she had a responsibility return it to its owner, at the end she was holding the canteen inconspicuously against her chest and walking quickly to safety. When alone, she even took long sips of it, her throat burning like fire and making her eyes water, secretly enjoying the taste of forbidden things.

Discovering that the door leading to the provisions room was open, Fahra quickly entered the room thinking how lucky she would be to find it empty, and how she would simply leave the canteen and never speak about it again. Perhaps another person would find it in the morning, no one would ever know.

❝ Is someone-❞ she dropped the canteen onto the wooden floor, the sound echoing throughout the room and its contents staining the wood. The young woman had her skirts and petticoat scandalously high. Fahra’s gasp was loud enough that she worried about others hearing it ( how would she explain her presence in that room? ). She brought a hand to her eyes and turned her head, cheeks turning red as Fahra had accidentally glimpsed a good portion of young woman’s bare legs. If she could, Fahra would simply disappear inside the floor or the walls, become one with them and escape from the mortification, instead, Fahra choose to be silent as if by not speaking a miracle would happen and she would become invisible ( what on this earth could be said on a situation like this?! ).