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legendsofmyriad · 6 months

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Legends of Myriad: Arc One - Chapter 21: Weathering the Storm

Being back on flat land after the constant bumps and bounces of the dunes felt strange, but the streets of Azuris provided Alek with a welcomed respite from the erratic jolts. The cobbled roads, though rugged in appearance, offered a remarkably stable ride. As they ventured further into the sonorous city centre, he settled into the snug seat and the tension gripping his body began to melt away. His eyelids hung heavy as the pleasant sway lulled him and the filtered air cleaned the lingering sand granules from his lungs.

A stray sunray bounced off the wing mirror and into his eyes, momentarily resurrecting the image of the monster in the cave. Gangly arms extended and razor maw snarling. Blood spilling between fractured, yellowing teeth. Insatiable appetite desperate for another bite of living flesh.

“You all right there?” Rhena asked, stealing a swift glance at him before diverting her focus to the road again. With a flick of the gears and easing up on the pedals, she seamlessly blended into the sluggish crawl of traffic.

“Yeah.” Alek adjusted his position until he was sitting up straight, stifling a yawn while taking in the commotion and activity outside the vehicle. Heat licked the roads in a fluctuating mirage, and shadows consumed the citizens as they weaved in and out of the shade.

“Looks as though you were about to fall asleep.”

“I was… uh…”

“Resting your eyes?”

“Something like that,” Alek sighed. Up ahead, a screeching car tore apart the quiet buzz and rumble of low-level engines, and he startled in his seat. “Definitely awake.”

“Probably just some show-off trying to be louder than everyone else,” Rhena griped. “I wish garages would stop agreeing to overwork people’s motors. It’ll short everything out if they’re not careful. Though I suppose they see it as more work in the future if those idiots do end up crapping out their engines.”

Although he didn’t fully understand, Alek hummed along with her observation. While Solgarde had motorised vehicles like trains and trams, most travelled by clicker horse or walked. “You don’t have to go through all this trouble,” he said. “You can drop me off here and I’ll find a medic. I’ve only got a few cuts and bruises.”

“It’s no bother,” the driver assured him, a hospitable expression lighting up her freckled features and scrunching the bridge of her nose. “There’s enough out there that can do plenty of harm, so in here, we look after each other. As long as your intentions are good, you’re welcome anywhere in Eternity.”

Alek had experienced an abundance of their goodwill to be able to trust in her words. He wore the evidence of Eternity’s generosity, and he wasn’t sure where he would be in that moment if it hadn’t been for their kindness.

In hesitant movements, the traffic started to gain momentum. Determined not to wander into napping territory, Alek secured the mesh over the window and savoured the fresh breeze. Approaching the central business district, blackened smudges stained many of the buildings, pale, speckled stone tarnished as though someone had haphazardly launched paint over them. “Did the sun do that?” he asked, pointing to the marks in question.

“What?” Rhena peeked at the marred exteriors. “Ah, no. That will be from the rebellion a few years ago. Got rather nasty towards the end.”

“Were you a part of it?” Alek questioned, awakened by a sense of intrigue.

Rhena’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Everyone was. I did a lot of driving, getting people away from hit areas and occasionally stopping supply vehicles from reaching the upper city. That sort of thing. It’s how I met my girlfriend.”

“Was she in the rebellion too?”

“Not quite.”

Alek noticed her awkwardly scratch the nape of her neck, eyes unblinking and fixed on the motion of traffic ahead. He went to speak, but restrained his curiosity until an appropriate time arose to ask more. Even after months of travel and research, he realised he had only grazed the surface of Eternity’s past and its extensive, sand-swept history.

An irresistible medley of mouthwatering aromas floated into the car, tucking a finger under his chin and directing him to the open windows of the bakeries and eating houses. Their cuisine was a symphony of flavours that captivated his taste buds, and he made it his own personal mission to immerse himself in their culinary delights before his inevitable departure.

“If you wanted to tell the authorities about what you saw, I can take you there tomorrow,” Rhena said, her kind offer cutting through his food-inspired daydream.

“Oh,” he spluttered. The thought of reporting the incident to any authority hadn’t crossed his mind, and he questioned whether it was the wisest option. “Would they believe me if I did?”

“Possibly. There is a load of weird stuff that breeds out there, and they like to check reports of odd sightings to make sure it’s nothing serious. A man turning into ashes probably wouldn’t be the most far-fetched thing they’d heard of.”

Alek pondered her suggestion. It may have helped ease his worries to alert the authorities to the threat, but no living soul existed in that cave anymore. Ghosts of the murdered and lost occupied it now. “I don’t think it will be much use,” he admitted, lounging to inhale the fading scents. “Whatever was in there is gone.”

Nearing the outskirts of the lower city, the symphony of impatient horns and bustling traffic gradually subsided. Detached houses, narrow and pale, neatly lined the streets. Teal domes studded the flat roofs, some of them open to the elements with clothes lines swaying in the gap. The taller structures boasted balconies adorned with lush greenery and cascading floral arrangements that spilled over the stone fencing and lightly skimmed the painted doors.

As they came to the end of a lengthy road, Rhena rotated the wheel, bringing the car to a steady stop underneath an overhang attached to a wide house. She supported her guest out of the back and wandered in through the side entrance. “Hello?” she called, steering him inside and shutting the stained-glass door. “Cas? You here?”

The moment Alek entered the kitchen, the refreshing touch of clean air cooled his sweat-dappled skin.

Climbing in stages along one wall were pictures of Rhena and who he assumed was her partner. They smiled brightly, and the steady rise of images painted a sweet tale.

“That’s Cas,” Rhena said, catching him examining the frames. “Don’t know where she’s got to. Could have sworn she wasn’t going out today.” She leaned around the corner of the worktop and up at the bannister protecting the staircase, calling out again.

Above them, a faint bump reverberated, preceded by hurried thumps along the ceiling and down the tiled stairs. Huffing and limping somewhat, Cas emerged.

“Sorry,” she said, trapping her tight curls into a bobble before kissing Rhena’s cheek. “I was sorting through some stuff in the attic. We’ve got so much rubbish up there.” Her eyes darted towards the stranger in their home, and she firmly shook his hand. “I see we have a visitor.”

“His name’s Alek. He came through the shiny light things,” Rhena explained. “He needed a bit of assistance, so I helped him. Alek, this is my girlfriend and the best vector driver in the world, Cas.”

“Rhena has told me a lot about you,” the mage said.

“Ah, then your judgement of me is already tainted,” Cas joked, a cheerful twinkle in her chestnut eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest and turned to her partner. “And what do you mean he came through the shiny light things?”

“You know that thing that tore up the track in the vector arena while we were competing?” To emphasise her point, Rhena made a sweeping gesture to the window and the illuminated column slicing into the azure sky in the distance.

“Obviously,” Cas replied, lifting the metal brace encasing her lower right limb a few inches off the floor.

“Well, he came through that.”

“Not that one in particular,” Alek shrugged, “but yeah, it was like that.”

Cas’s eyebrows pinched and a heavy crease nestled between them. “Why do I get the nagging feeling this is going to be a long, troubling story?”

With a mischievous wink, Rhena rummaged in the overhead cabinets for various herb jars and twisted the filled kettle into the stovetop holder.

Inviting their visitor to relax, Cas coaxed a chair out from the table and took a seat, encouraging him to explain how he found himself so far from home. As Alek settled down next to her, he recounted his adventures, starting from the moment he and his friends had stumbled upon the dormant gateway in the waterfall caverns. Citrus scents and sugary aromas infused the tale, and Rhena distributed three steaming mugs of lemon tea.

“So those lights are gateways,” Cas said, the worn rings on her fingers jingling on the rim of her cup, “and you travelled through them from another world?”

Softly humming in confirmation, Alek sipped at the syrupy drink and resisted the temptation to gulp it down in one go, the pleasant flavours enrapturing his tastebuds and soothing him from the inside out. “I’m from Solgarde. Professor Spark said my world is known as the home of magic. I have all the research I came for, so I’ll be heading back there soon.”

“What’s ours?” Rhena asked intrigued, setting a plastic carton crammed with medical equipment onto the circular table.

“Home of glass I think.”

“Pretty apt.” With a mellow shrug, she burrowed into the discoloured box and located the wipes and stick-on bandages. “Arm,” she demanded, wiggling her fingers until he’d put down his beverage and obediently planted his forearm onto her upturned palm. “Might sting a bit but it’s better than the alternative.”

“Oh so caring,” Cas whispered jokingly. In response to Rhena’s glare, she slurped at her drink.

Rhena stuck her tongue out at her and got to work cleaning up the dishevelled student, wiping down cuts and weeping wounds, and applying various balms and ointments to his bruises. But one concerned her more than the others. “How close did that man get to you?” she questioned, dabbing at the dried blood and carefully rotating his arm to reach the more severe lacerations.

“Not too close,” Alek answered. Only when he inspected the wound for himself did he understand why she had asked. Deep enough to ooze down his wrist, the gash appeared raised and inflamed, and in the centre, riven holes bore into his skin. Murmurs quivered on his lips. “It… it didn’t get that near to me to be able to… I’m sure of it.”

“You did say it moved fast,” Rhena pointed out.

“But I felt nothing. Not even a slight scratch.”

“No use in panicking now. We’ll keep an eye on it, okay?” Rhena took a brief break from tending to the wound and patiently waited for him to snap out of his stunned daze. “It might not be a bite. Could be anything. You’ll find sharp things all over those caves.”

Alek’s throat tightened as he swallowed, and he mustered a nod. He replayed the fight in his head and sought to recall ever getting so close to the creature’s face it had the opportunity to sink its teeth into his arm. It couldn’t have, he tried to convince himself. It was moving quickly, but not that quick. Still, the cut spewed another thick clump as though to disagree.

“You’re free to stay with us, if you need somewhere,” Cas said. “You look like you’ve been through a nasty ordeal.”

“Thank you,” Alek murmured, the image of that disjointed face and those snarling teeth haunting him. “I will be out of your hair tomorrow.”

“Nonsense,” Rhena tutted. “You can stick around for as long as you want. And when you’re ready, I’ll get you back to the gateway. How does that sound?”

Kinder than I deserve, Alek thought, but kept unspoken. He offered her a meek smile, and she patted the unscathed side of his arm. “I have a little money to repay you with.”

“You don’t need to give us anything,” Cas assured him, rising to her feet and placing her empty cup by the sink.

“But-”

“Okay, how about this? I’ll put some dinner on and you can tell some stories about Solgarde.” In the middle of unhooking pots and pans from the wall holders, she paused and planted her hands on her hips. “A place filled with magic sounds rather interesting.”

* * *

Woken by a tremendous bang, Alek shot upright and hastily threw the bedsheets off his clammy legs. As the murky darkness enveloped him and silhouettes flickered, he stretched his hand into the gloom and summoned an illuminated orb. Bathed in the silvery glow, the jacket on the door hooks cast a slithering shadow, but the rest of the spare bedroom lay dormant. No spectres. No phantoms lurking in the corner to snatch him from his bed. And no elongated creatures waiting to plunge their teeth into him.

He rubbed at the beading perspiration on his forehead and abandoned the comfortable mattress. Cool tile tickled his toes as he lumbered out into the upstairs hallway. Navigating by orb light, he cautiously descended the stairs.

Around the bannister, a mellow warmth trickled from the kitchen. Cocooned in a fluffy dressing gown and matching slippers, Cas locked her unblinking focus on the rain. Misshapen outlines slid down her face in the dull glow of the cabinet lights. Like a gunshot, the world outside roared and several loud smashes exploded above. A flash followed seconds later and momentarily engulfed the open space in a slab of blinding white.

“Cas?” Alek said, mindful of his host’s serene meditation. “Is there something going on?”

“It’s just a glass storm,” she replied. With a reassuring smile, she beckoned him over to the sink, making room so he could witness the fury of the elements.

He ducked a little and positioned himself to peek through the highest point of the window arch. Intense blue hues dominated the sky and wispy grey veils roiled to hide the stars. Chunks of glass rained from the looming clouds, shattering into minuscule pieces upon hitting the city’s blockade. Defeated, they rolled along the dome and disappeared behind distant structures.

Just as he was about to withdraw, a deafening crack of lightning split the air and he flinched.

“Don’t worry,” Cas reassured him, “it can’t get in here. Only weather that can get through the barrier is rain.”

Mesmerised, Alek admired the breathtaking beauty, the iridescent rainbow glimmers reflecting off the plummeting glass and the crashes resonating off the defence system. A chaotic symphony of shatters resounded before the smaller fragments continued their melodic chorus. In a dazzling display, a series of forked strikes blasted the shield.

“I always struggle to sleep through storms,” Cas sighed as weighty raindrops bombarded the windowpane. “But Rhena could sleep through a full scale attack and wake up asking what happened. Nothing disturbs her once she’s asleep.”

“I’m surprised anybody can rest during this,” Alek mumbled. “I’d be amazed if people over the other side of Myriad couldn’t hear it.”

Cas let out a breathy chuckle. “Most times, they’re quite contained, but I saw one once that spanned for miles. Just glass sheets and hail and lightning. It was like the sky was desperate to break the world apart. I ended up stranded outside the city with some other troops and it reached the point where many of us began questioning whether we’d make it until morning.”

“You’re a part of the army?” Alek asked, shifting from the erupting weather.

“I was,” Cas replied. “Feels like a lifetime ago now.”

A sense of camaraderie warmed him at meeting a fellow soldier, but a nagging hunch hinted their military experiences differed considerably. The memory of Rhena’s words in the car resurfaced, connecting her recollection of how they had found each other and her role in the uprising. “Rhena mentioned you both met during the last rebellion,” he said, not wanting to overstep but curious about his hosts.

Cas’s sombre eyes roamed the relentless white sheets of rain assaulting the driveway and the weathered brick. Cracks of lightning and peals of thunder hunted each other to join the orchestra of fragile shatters. Each rumble served as a haunting reminder of the projectiles, the screeching car chases, and the ceaseless surge of adrenaline her duty demanded. Soldier of Azuris. Protector. Defender. But it had been a lie. All she had done was give power to a misguided leader and inadvertently aid in the execution of his horrors.

Until Rhena.

Until that bubbly ray of light entered her life and offered her the opportunity to make a better choice.

“It was a difficult time for everyone,” she said, careful not to scratch at the raw psychological wounds. “The previous ruler of Azuris was easily swayed by flattery, and greedy individuals exploited this weakness by showering him with praise and then filling his head with nonsense. He acted on what they suggested, trusting every word, and many lost their lives.”

“I’m sorry,” Alek spoke into the mournful lull.

“For so long, I fought on the wrong side, thinking that I was protecting people. If it hadn’t been for Rhena, I wouldn’t be here.” Standing up to her full height, Cas freed the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding and turned her back on the violent storm. “I see the soldier in you, you know. I hope things are better where you’re from.”

Alek worried his lip between his teeth before he responded. “Solgarde is recovering from a war. Well, I say a war, it was more of a purge. Mages like me were hunted, blamed for everything that went wrong and believed dangerous. Only those with powers considered valuable were allowed to live, but they were closely monitored. The majority were slaughtered. We fought hard and won in the end, but our numbers are much sparser now.”

“And you had to fight?” Cas asked.

“The students of the Citadel weren’t forced to. Arrangements were made to get us to safety, but we didn’t leave. Our home was under threat, our families and our friends were being killed, and even though we knew we may not make it, we refused to flee.”

An overwhelming swell of protection flooded Cas’s veins. It was heartbreaking to comprehend the struggles someone so young had faced, but his fortitude gave her hope. Confronted with adversity, he pressed on, displaying a remarkable bravery for one of his age. “We survivors must stick together,” she said staunchly, watching the storm once more. “To ensure that all of those horrid things never happen again and future generations do not have to suffer how we have.”

#tw: blood #tw: injury detail #legends of myriad #legendsofmyriad #fantasy #fantasy writing #story series #writblr #creative writing #fantasy story #writing #fantasy series #original fiction #original fic #original writing

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admiraltyspride · 2 years

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Nelson 50 things

Water Meeting his uncle at the dockyard had sounded like the best idea at the time, to be taken under his wing and shown the seas and oceans was a great gift indeed... but looking upon the world he was about to set foot on? The clear and cold waters gently lapping against the wall of the dock, repetitive yet unpredictable and as he looked passed the harbour and to the horizon, it did not seem to have an end!

Music It was just the right sort of warning as the strings were scraped in preparation. He would not be able to hold his partners hand in the correct position given he lacked a leading hand, so it was a swift retreat to the side of the room, away from the King’s gaze and hopefully just where he could instead enjoy the music and watch the other guests dance without judgement or worse pity!

Drink Never too much but always just enough to land on the merrier side at dinner. Wine was the preference but beer could be just as good! He just had to remember not to mix the two ever again!

Fire The scene was something from his worst nightmares. A ship of the line ablaze as men jumped overboard to escape the heat and the inevitable explosion. Too far away to help and himself about to be engaged in a round with another ship, he could only watch in terror as the flames crippled the ship and forced her crew to chose between burning or drowning!

Denial There must have been some mistake? Perhaps the King did not fully understand the importance of his victory in Copenhagen? That had to be it. Unless of course he had not managed to comprehend the great risk and incredible feat he had pulled off in his name? Maybe he just needed to explain it to him properly and he and his men would have victory pay, medals and recognition for the hardest battle he had ever fought!

Soft There were perks to being on shore. His mattress in the City of Bath was perhaps the softest he thought he had ever had the good pleasure of resting in. Maybe it was through the efforts of dear Fanny that it seemed so. The very feeling of being cared for, to rest and recover without his failure being seen as a disgrace. Yes. He could get used to softness and care.

Belonging It had been such a simple suggestion in his mind, why on earth would they risk an open water battle when they were out gunned? That pat on his shoulder and smile from his biggest advocate, he knew there that it was his place to be, upon the waves and with a strategy always up his sleeve.

Quiet In the habit of waking before the dawn and venturing out onto the deck while his crew still had three to four hours of sleep meant that he could enjoy his ship in peace. It was the quiet that he enjoyed most, listening to what it was the ship had to say with each smack of the waves, gentle fumble of the sails or most poignantly the creak of her wood as she protected the crew.

Loud A ship finding herself at the mercy of his broadside meant only one outcome. He hoped and wished that them seeing him stood in plain view was clue enough they should surrender but with their refusal and battle cry came one of his own, just a single word, “Fire!” There was nothing quite like 85 cannons firing all at once. The ringing in his ears would last a while but the struck ship? Well, she had less time to adjust, much less as the second round fired and split her side open.

Mud Placing individual potatoes in the soft earth, one at a time, perfectly spaced out. It was like a game, the right depth, the right gap and the right size potato. The soil was cold in his hand and damp from the soaking. It clung to his skin and stuck under his fingernails but the boy still smiled as he worked. Simply happy to have permission to get dirty while doing work!

Scar It was terrible looking! A large mark that cut his eyebrow in half and lead right the way up to his hairline! Large and unsightly! Right on his face and impossible to hide! It would fade though, wouldn’t it? Right?

Wheel Always a terrifying moment when a wheel broke free of a carriage, just the initial drop on one side and the terrible scrape for a few feet along the road. Still Nelson could only laugh as he saw the freed wheel roll passed his window all on its own. Hilarious.

Flower Roses held such a fine scent, delicate yet recognisable. It was that smell which greeted him first as he set foot in Merton, where he would call his new home when next he returned from the war. Roses of a pale orange had overgrown the entranceway but Nelson found himself rather pleased with them. How wonderful to be greeted home by such a sight and smell.

Tears The loss of a child was supposedly common place, but for Nelson, his second daughter barely lasted two weeks and he, so far from home would never have the chance to hold her, speak to her nor comfort her, never let her know who he was to her and she to him. He would have given his last breath for her to have taken another of her own. Tears rolled down his face in the Great Cabin, alone and rightly so for such news he would never be able to explain without scandal.

Night There was nothing quite like a night on calm waters bathed only in starlight. An infinity Nelson was quite convinced the closest place a sailor could ever get to God while on the waters. A peace like no other to be found on earth with his crew safe and asleep below decks and himself watching over their rest, in the company of the Heavens, the wind and as ever, the great open waters of Earth.

Orange Winter was his favourite time in the Mediterranean as it meant only one thing -- an abundance of deliciously grown oranges and other citrus fruits in the ports. No better way to guard against scurvy than with proper (and tasty) fruit to enjoy.

Soap Castile soap truly was the best for shaving with, covering his face in the stuff was easy enough but what was the harm in a little more? Oh. Perhaps that was too much... he still was not that steady with his left hand, he should have waited for his steward...

Sun Doldrums, a curse on their own but a blaring sun might at least stave off the worst of the boredom. “Lower a sail, hands to bathe.” His swimmers and non-swimmers alike might as well enjoy the day where a battle might have snatched it all away.

Again Shrapnel was his worst enemy, he decided. Sharp splatters of wood and metal were one thing but large blunt parts of his own ship smacking him in the abdomen? That was not something he ever wanted to experience again.

Fight It had taken months of practice to get his left hand up to at least a similar standard as his lost right but he could absolutely give his opponent hell if they dared to come close enough to him!!

Run When presented with an opportunity, he simply had to take it. The enemy flagship drawing up alongside the ship he was just about to capture? Well... Nelson called his men to board the enemy ship and then lead the charge across the ship and over the railings onto the next at quite the sprint.

Short Yes perhaps he was on the smaller side compared to some or even most of the gentlemen in the room... and some of the ladies... and teenagers. Oh. Maybe he really was on the small side?

Celebrate Another victory deserved a celebration, captured ships that would pay for proper compensation where the victory pay might not, his men could rejoice and so they should! The rum was broken out and Nelson knew they were in for a long night of singing, music, celebrations and likely a few forgotten incidents as the dawn came.

Label Hat tax... what a stupid thing to tax a man for when his hat was part of his uniform. Still the stamp inside his silken lining at least confirmed that yes, he had paid his tax on his hat and hopefully the red ink would not seep onto his head or hair!

Language How could it be that French was the only other language he was taught? Sure it helped if ever he needed to have his French opponents surrender and offer terms but how inconvenient it was that he could not communicate freely with his new Italian friends. French as the common tongue somehow left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Towel Coarse fabric caught against his wounded arm, forcing a hiss from him as he froze on the spot. Would he ever heal from the blasted thing?! He checked the towel with a quick glance, sure enough it had once again ripped free the lingering and fragile skin around where he was cut, he wretched at the colour but caught himself. Damn his arm! Damn the fabric! Damn that bloody French sniper!

Fist Why would he have to repeatedly prove he was blind? Week after week to travel from Bath to London just to confirm that yes, he could not see through his right eye? What was next? Them asking to prove he had lost his right arm every week too just to be sure? He hardly noticed how tightly his fingers had curled into a fist until he felt the sting of his own fingernails against his skin. The old sailors were right, those that stayed on land really did lose their minds after so many years in one place!

Leaves He often forgot just how green England was. Sailing back and seeing the rolling green hills that awaited them, the grand oaks and acers that stood just behind cliffs like old guardians. He smiled to himself. Ah, yes this is what he was fighting for.

Road/path The gardens of the Sicilian landscape were something to behold, true that the pathways were all straight and rather dull but for all they passed on their walk? Such great colours and cared for so meticulously too. Maybe he could have one like it at home?

Betrayal This was a betrayal, it went against his marriage vows, his poor and dear, dear Fanny’s heart would be broken... but every fibre of his being, every stitch of his soul told him that Emma, beautiful Emma was his true soul mate. He would have to cut ties with dear Fanny. A true betrayal for his loyal wife.

Judgement Snap decisions and good judgement was his talent, would he be punished for disobeying a direct order? Very likely, but in doing so, would it grant them victory? Also very likely. Be damned, he was not going to limp to safety or worse surrender when he could snatch victory instead, it was his call and now he elected to ignore the order, he did after all only have one eye, he was allowed to be blind sometimes.

Breakfast That morning everything just felt odd. This was to be the most important battle of his life, if he failed all of his previous victories would be meaningless and the invasion would be inevitable, but if he succeeded. Oh, what a victory that would be! So why could he not bring himself to eat? He needed his strength and to not be distracted by an empty stomach but his appetite was long gone for the nerves.

Difference He looked at the company that stood in the ballroom with him, perhaps two hundred or so people, all of them from great houses, noble families with wealth that would make even his eyes water if he could even truly picture it. So why was he there amongst them? Ah yes, he had earned his place amongst them in their grand halls but never truly beside them, he was a novelty but just how long would that last? They were a different breed altogether.

Laugh There was no sound better nor more comforting for an admiral than to hear his men laugh at his joke. A serious sermon in the morning deserved a light hearted quip at its end, there was no better gift from the Almighty aboard a ship than harmonious laughter and a happy crew.

Letter Oh how Emma’s words could set his heart fluttering uncontrollably, how he wished he could keep them safe and with him at all times, as if keeping her close despite their long episodes apart. Alas, the revelation would bring too much scandal for the pair of them so with one last look over his beloved’s handwriting, taking just a moment to try and memorise his favourite lines before he held the page over his candle and watched as it all slowly disintegrated into ashes on his cabin floor, never to be read by him nor anyone else ever again.

Meal Venison! He could serve venison to his guests! Finally! He had reached the point in his career where he could share in such luxury foods with his father and siblings and dear Fanny. This would be the start of the great house and how fitting that it should be in a shared meal.

Confusion “It cannot be noon already, I have only just risen. Maybe it is the headache? It pounds relentlessly. Maybe I am unwell? Wait... Is it noon already? It can’t be...”

Cold Wools were not enough to keep warm while on watch! They were in an ocean of ice, true and proper snow unlike anything he had seen back home. He rubbed at his arms and tucked his nose into the collar of his pipe jacket as he tried relentlessly to stay warm in the freezing temperatures! Just why were they trying to get through the Pole again?!

Clean A bath? He had desperately missed such luxury. Years and years at sea without leave, a bowl and jug of cold water could only do so much but a bath! There was nothing better! He scrubbed and lounged in the freshwater for as long as the temperature would allow him and perhaps a little more. If only he could justify bringing one on board a ship.

Blue His dress coat was to be blue? Was that not a jinx on him? Blue was an unlucky colour was it not? But... well it did look mightily smart and it suited him. A dark navy, that did not count as the same blue now did it?

Noise Was that a crack of thunder or a distant cannon fire?! Nelson was out of his cot in a flash and pulling on his uniform as he hurled himself up the ladders and onto the deck to see for himself, catching the murmurs and rumbling of his resting crew he had disturbed. “Another bloody storm, he’ll be pacing about all night.” Too right he would be! What if it was cannon fire?! What better disguise was there for an attack than the merciless crack of thunder?

Humility Vanity was his biggest sin, no, he did not have much humility and nor did he believe he should have! After all when another man could come along and show him up in his strategies and results, then perhaps then and only then might he be tempted to rein in his vanity. To hell with humility!

Humanity He saw the man stumble onto his ship, unescorted, without permission, just hurling himself away from another man on the dock. He was clearly a slave, a run away. Nelson looked over the edge of his flagship and upon hearing the accent of the man chasing the other he decided he would not be receiving his help that day. “This man is now a part of my crew. If you wish to claim him, you will have to take it up with the Admiralty office in London, England. Until you do though, this man is under my care and is under the protection of the Royal Navy.”

Change The boy stood and watched as the man took hold of the ox reins, pulling the animal away and off towards his ‘farm’. He could see the faces of his neighbours, some were crying. How were they to plough their own squares now? How would they grow their crops if they did not have the ox to share?

Help How humiliating! To have to find his flagship without her rudder and drifting towards the unforgiving shoreline. His help came in his least competent captain, to which he belted several orders to for him to leave him be and save his own vessel only to go completely ignored. Rightly so though, for his bane of a captain turned out to be his saviour... perhaps it was alright to accept help now and again.

Explain The Combined Fleets of the Enemy are now reported to be coming out of Cadiz; and therefore I answer your letter, my dearest Horatia, to mark to you that you are ever uppermost in my thoughts. I shall be sure of your prayers for my safety, conquest, and speedy return to dear Merton, and our dearest good Lady Hamilton. Be a good girl, mind what Miss Connor says to you. Receive, my dearest Horatia, the affectionate parental blessing of your Father, --- Nelson + Bronte

Depth It was so important to know the waters one was sailing through, so vital to understand the depths of them and where they could be most treacherous. On this occasion it appeared as if his pursuers had not done the same work he had as they ran aground rather quickly. He could only laugh at them as he waved them a farewell as his own ship sailed albeit riskily but successfully through the shoals.

Knowing That was his spine. He was shot through as he landed on his knees trying to catch himself with his left hand but collapsed onto it instead. His shoulder too weak to support him, the feeling of the rest of his body all but gone and a rushing of blood with each breath. They had finally done it, they had killed him but God by his mercy was granting him just enough more time, he was to die but not in that moment. He was needed for something else then.

Freedom Admiral of the White. He was free to do as he pleased with his fleet, to engage the enemy or if he truly wished it, to spend years at a foreign port waiting for them to find him. He no longer had to wait for permissions or orders, now it was his turn to command a battle without the hindrance of a senior officer berating him, taking the prize money or surrendering too soon.

Break How wonderful it was to walk on freed foreign beaches, to feel the warmth of the Mediterranean sands under his feet. To enjoy where he was without worry of attack, that threat was dealt with, for now he could just be even for just a short while, it was a break well earned.

#musings #hc #I LOVE this meme XD so I apologise to those who follow the other blogs and have seen this before elsewhere #also plenty of triggering content in here!#tw: injury detail #tw: gore #tw: infant death #probably many more than I have not picked up on #but yeah read more with caution

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