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[holyposition]

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t.laughlin

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[holyposition]

I imagine you run out of other things to do before too long. I've been here from the start, as far as anyone can tell, so I've seen and heard some things. 😇

How old are you? Far from the oldest here, I'm sure.

[mygoodsir]

Precisely. Although certain acts are technically forbidden, there was still an awful lot of rumour about who was frigging whom in the orlop.

Thirty-seven. An ancient.

[holyposition]

What a scandal. Was anyone caught? How does that work when you're stuck at sea and can't be kicked out?

Nowadays they'd say you're perfectly in your prime. If not for the years of malnutrition.

[mygoodsir]

No, not to my knowledge. Oh, you'd be flogged.

Really? How times have changed.
I am improving, though. Not quite so emaciated.

[holyposition]

That sounds humiliating.

Not to fuss over you, but I’ve noticed. Give it a few months, and you’ll be asking me why some pretty young person is calling you daddy.

[mygoodsir]

Oh, it is. We did have one group flogged, but not for buggery. I did not witness it, as it was aboard our sister ship, the Terror.

Good Lord Tim, I'm not impregnating anyone!

[holyposition]

[ Remember 2 seconds ago when he said he didn’t want to be a gossip? Ignore that. ]

For what, then?

Oh, it’s not literal. It’s an endearment for an attractive older man. Even if he isn’t actually a father. The implication is more... “you could guide me and take care of me.” But eroticized.

[mygoodsir]

Ababdoning their posts to kidnap a Netsilik woman. Lady Silence, we called her. I miss her terribly.

Oh, I see! Well, I'm not certain I'd be particularly good at guiding anyone outside of very specific situations.

[holyposition]

Oh, no. They didn't...?

Are you the kind of person who prefers to be guided?

[mygoodsir]

No. The men were terrified of her, by and large. My dearest Lady's story is one for another time, but rest assured I'd have done anything to keep her from harm's way.

When you put it that way, I suppose if I had to choose I would prefer to guide after all. If only because I do enjoy sharing any knowledge I have.

[holyposition]

[ 'My dearest Lady'? His heart warms ever brighter. ]

No one said you had to be the same every time.

Is it tough here, having so much to catch up on?

[mygoodsir]

[If they were in person, it's likely that Goodsir wouldn't shut up about her.]

I suppose that is true.

Oh, I constantly feel a fool. Socially, I've never been terribly competent so that at least I'm used to. But to be so far behind in everything else is quite embarrassing. I find myself messaging my entirely too patient friends at odd hours to ask about drugs, for example. Things I had considered myself educated in.

[holyposition]

I wasn’t especially popular back home, either. You’re in good company.

I can barely imagine. I studied history, and there’s plenty to catch up on, but all the things I knew are still the same. There’s just more. It’s not like medicine with revised treatment methods, and learning about vaccines and germs and everything else.

Why did they kidnap her?

[mygoodsir]

That's difficult to believe.

Germs! Oh, goodness, I'm so excited about germs!

They felt she was responsible for a creature that attacked our men.

[holyposition]

Well, it’s true. I’ve opened up a lot here. It’s hard to make real friends when it’s dangerous for them to know who you really are.

What’s exciting about germs? 😊

What, a hunting dog?

[mygoodsir]

As usual Tim, you're completely correct. I am very glad you've no such issues here.

Everything! It explains so much about disease, fills in so many gaps. You know, just between us, those of us who have worked at sea have long held that a clean sickbay frequently aired out is preferable to one that is not. But to now understand that cleanliness has a scientific purpose!

No. You are familiar with the great white bears of the Arctic region? Something like that. But not quite. It was not, strictly speaking, an animal.

It killed a good number of our men, including Sir John Franklin. Many of the men believed it targeted him quite specifically.

[holyposition]

Something I've always taken for granted. Vaccines are pretty new though, in my time. No more smallpox or polio.

Really? Why would it do that?

[mygoodsir]

What a miraculous time to be alive this is!

Really.

It sounds absurd to say, but for revenge.

Tim, I have told you that I love that land, even now, and I do. But we were not meant to go there.

[holyposition]

[ When he thinks of the Arctic, he thinks of something desolate, lifeless. There's an awareness, of course, that there are Native people who live there, polar bears, seals, other things. But he doesn't think about it as something with a will of his own, the way sailors speak of the sea, or hunters speak of the forest. ]

Revenge for what?

[mygoodsir]

If you would hear that story, I would be more comfortable telling you in person.

[holyposition]

Only if you're comfortable. I'll be free after dinner.

[mygoodsir]

You may think less of us, after the telling is done.

After dinner is fine. You are welcome in my quarters anytime.

[holyposition]

[ After dinner, Tim warns Hawk that he might be gone for a while, and finds his way to Goodsir's place. He feels awkward, unprepared without having brought anything - a bottle of wine, a plate of cookies. Things he hasn't put any thought towards for a while, since he won't be allowed until Easter.

And because every so often, it almost seems like he's being flirted with. Which is delusional, or this place has warped his perception to see subtexts that aren't there. Or wishful thinking? Which is even more absurd - he doesn't need a rebound, and Goodsir doesn't need a younger man sniffing around him before he's even gotten his strength back. He's made that quite clear.

It's easy enough to shake away those stray thoughts, with a deep breath and a knock on the door. ]

Hi, Harry.

[ Smiling. The conversation promises to be somber, so they ought to get them in while they can. ]

You know, your last confession didn't scare me. So I doubt I'll think less of you. [ ... ] Not, a confession-confession. You know what I mean.

[mygoodsir]

[Goodsir's room has had no modern touches added besides those installed by the hosts; it maintains the old English manor aesthetic near perfectly. Books are piled on every flat surface, bookmarks poking out from the pages.

He opens the door and smiles warmly as he ushers Tim in. Comfortable in Tim's presence, he wears no coat.]

Now, Tim. 'Daddy' I understand, but 'Father' might be a bit far.

[A joke! He gestures to the cuck chair every bedroom seems to have. He pours some water from a carafe into a glass to offer Tim.]

I'm afraid I don't have answers for all the questions you may ask. In spite of my best efforts, my knowledge of Inuktitut is extremely basic. And even if I had a decade to practice, there are things that remain very private to the Netsilik people.

[He sighs, not sitting but instead pacing back and forth.]

I will have to start at the beginning.

We were out on the ice, scouting for the shore. We, that is, Lieutenant Gore and half a dozen men and myself. It was very dark. Sergeant Bryant fired upon what he thought was a bear. It was not. It was a Netsilik man. He was with his daughter. It was an accident, a most terrible accident.

Almost immediately after, Lieutenant Gore was mauled to death by the creature. We fled, making it back to the ship with the Netsilik man and his daughter.

I tried, Tim. I tried to save him, I really did. But I failed. [This haunts him perhaps as much as his final acts.]

[holyposition]

[ He laughs, agreeable, almost scandalized with himself for doing so - but the joke about their differences only highlights the ways that they're the same. It might offend, coming from someone else, any of the many people here who don't respect his faith, or come from a place where it's an oddity to be either scorned or studied. Goodsir, despite his crisis of faith (which he can't judge him for, for Tim's own are nerve-wracking and frequent), comes from a place where these are facts of life, not something which needs constant justification.

It's a rare comfort here.

Tim settles into the armchair near the bed and takes his water with a soft thanks. And listens, carefully, dragging a coaster nearer with his fingernail. ]

I'm sure you did. [ Softly. Not convinced that the death of one man would call a bear-like creature into action, but his eyes are warm, more curious than truly doubtful. ] You said it was an accident. A horrific one, of course. But no malice in it. Why would the land want revenge?