lucetilogs | (no subject)

(no subject)

Who: Anyone who wants to come!
What: Autumn (Equinox) Celebration
When: Today, at 9PM to Midnight (and maybe even after)
Where: Around the Rec Center
Summary: Brigade party! There's food! There's lights! There's music! There's fireworks!
Rating: A for Abacus

There were lights! Autumn-appropriate decorations! There were tables of food (though very little of it is vegetarian friendly)! There was even a stage for music and entertainment! Still waiting was the fireworks to take place at midnight, but otherwise things were set up to more or less respectable Brigade standards. Maybe Haruhi hadn't done it herself, but it was done well enough, thanks to the efforts of being coordinated by Mikage.

The stage was left open for anyone to perform that wanted to. The karaoke machine had been dragged outside for people to sing along to, regardless of talent, or otherwise just to play music when no one was on stage. Naturally inside the Rec Center itself is a variety of pool tables, foosball, air hockey, and a TV with some video games. Just enough to keep things a little fun. If only there was a pool.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh yes, I'm all for the delights of our dear isle, queen and country, London dry gin and cricket.

[A puff from his cigarette, his smile refusing to fade through the pout as his lips wrap around the paper tubing.]

Though it would seem that England is a bit older in my time than yours.

King and country, where I come from. Although we still have cricket.

I do suppose there is a male monarch, but I've always been more fond of his lady. Perhaps my dear Anthony is to blame.

[He holds out a hand.]

Guy Burgess.

[He takes it.] Archie Kennedy. Lieutenant.

A pleasure, Lieutenant.

[He shakes the hand eagerly.]

Not to many of us, are there? Englishmen?

Not proportionally, I'm afraid. Just a few, from my time, which is eighteen hundred and two, by the by. When I first arrived, actually, there were none. But from other times, there are more than a few. We try to look out for each other.

1945 is my own, and you'll likely meet my fellows. There's something to be said for friends who look after one another, and friendship is everything.

[A beat.] Assuming these men of 1802 are your friends as well. Navy?

Navy, yes. Well, some of them. From 1805, and thereabouts. Although round here I still count the fellow from the previous King George's time. Less than a century apart, it has to count for something. As you said, friendship is everything.

Edited 2011-09-24 16:13 (UTC)

Of course it does. Gun crew sevens, quarterdecks full of blue coats and brass buttons, patriotism, and kilometre after kilometre of line in tight angles. It's all something and it all counts.

Why, it's a gentleman who knows and respects his own history! I thought the breed had died out entirely by your century!

I should hope so when history was my choice of study in Trinity at Cambridge. A shameless and non-incriminating love of mine. I far more than respect it.

University at Cambridge! A distinguished scholar, then! And the masses surrounding us completely unawares.

The dean was far more fixated on distinguishing my academia with his lengthy predictions and tolerances. If only I had my tie from Eton...

[He does miss that tie, along with his coat. It was important to have a good coat. Luceti might get cold, after all.]

A professional scholar, then. Will wonders never cease?

It's quite common come a fair score and century to lead a well trodden path through education. My dear friends and accompaniment to this place are the same. We were at Trinity together.

[Guy shrugs off the compliment, fairly certain there's a pointedness to it about the privilege required to even attend such places. Knowledge cost a pretty sum of pounds, without question.]</small.

I suppose such an education is more common in your day?

Quite a bit more. Though not as accessible as I wish it were.

[A small leak of leftist coming out when he should likely be hiding the fact, or at least he knows he should. Until they understand where it is they are, it is prudent for he and the other spies to be careful.

Guy simply never has been.]

It's all right. We mere mortals make do well enough. My education was at sea, you could say.

A midshipman's education, I take it? Someone started early.

[He grins. It's fascinating and stimulating, talking like this. Living history.]

I was eleven, actually, and I mostly ran powder. I wasn't a mid till I was fourteen.

Really? To think I wanted to join the navy at seventeen. They wouldn't have me of course, my eyesight was too poor.

[A long draw from his cigarette.] I would have been fucking terrified at eleven running powder. Ghastly dangerous. I was a rather pathetic creature, then.

I don't think it ever occurred to me, at the time. Not a great deal of action seen back then, so it was mostly drills.

Rejected because your eyesight was too poor? Back in my day, we'd press you just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, eyesight be damned.

[He tilts his head and casts a curious look.] Dragged the poor drunkards straight out of their slumber, if I recall.

I attended a naval college. Studied there for two years before they grew the bollocks enough to write me off.

Drunkards, prisoners. Men from other ships. It's difficult to imagine anyone being written off, no matter how far in the future. Has the navy become much more popular, then?

[At this, Guy grows a little bit quieter.]

There's a draft. For the last six years, all men who are not in 'reserved occupations' have to enlist, and will potentially be called to war. That is, all men above the age of eighteen and below forty-one. We're in the middle of a world war, the second since the dawning of the twentieth century.

[A heavy sigh before his volume picks up again, his passions about this being a Very Bad Thing obvious in his tone.]

Metal ships and missiles, machine guns and mines. Barbed wire fences, women in factories bolting out ammunition by the masses.