lucetilogs | Let 'em say we're crazy, I don't care about that!

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Let 'em say we're crazy, I don't care about that!

Who: Everyone!
What: The final day. Moonfall. Twenty-Four hours remain. How do you spend it?
When: The 30th, all day
Where: Anywhere
Summary: The last day. The end has come. The moon is coming down and piercing the barrier. Nothing can stop it.
Rating: It will vary.

Details are here. But here's a recap and expansion!

By the time morning hits Luceti, the Moon has begun to breach the barrier, noticeable by how the barrier will fluctuate about the Moon's face in strange ribbons of energy. The oceans and lakes begin to rage as they are caught by the Moon's gravity. The ground begins to quake in an unsettling way. Small and harmless tremors that will slowly intensify over the course of the day. With the Moon already partway through the barrier, it will be noticeable that it is not quite as large as the real Moon. Though quite vast, the Moon itself does is not quite the entire size of Luceti, but is large enough to span the entire village and more. The Moon's angered face does not cease for a moment, even as it becomes the only sight in the sky.

Yet it remains in the sky, slowly breaking through the barrier, and proving indestructible in spite of all that is thrown at it. In the evening it will begin to cause gravitational disturbances, drawing up debris and small objects into the air. When it finally reaches midnight, the bottom of the Moon will be one mile above Luceti. At that point, all will suddenly black out and know no more. What becomes of the Moon? Does Luceti go splat? Will CJ finally get his moon rocks? Stay tuned!

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You're overreacting, Jack. She'll have me and Horatio, if you will not come with her. Frankly, making her stay at home isn't any kinder. She'll be in greater danger and be able to hear every rattle of every dish, to boot. We'll have a lovely little walk and make up stories about why the moon is angry and it won't seem so bad.

I'm not overreacting, Kennedy. I am quite calm in this matter, and I've given it thought. No.

Doesn't matter if you're calm, you're still overreacting. What do you know of children?

You have not one shred of evidence that I am overreacting, sir. We simply do not see eye to eye on what should be done with a tiny child in an apparently unwinnable situation. There is no good choice, savvy? I have chosen what I think is the better and less frightening of the two, simply that. You were not here during the last quake, sir; I shall hold to my judgment.

[That last question, though, makes him bristle. Hasn't he looked after this child for days, now? Done everything he could for her? With a curt nod, Jack starts walking toward Seven again.]

And by what right have you made this judgment, sir? [Archie is following him.]

Hmmmm? Right? I just told you, Kennedy. Your tunnel idea is foul. I see nothing helpful about it. In Seven she has a warm, familiar bed and all of her things. She has food, medical supplies, and plenty of drinking water set by. She has Buffy and myself to protect her. She has stories and pictures and books and games. Distractions. I'm certain Buffy would not object if you wanted to shelter there yourself.

[That last part comes out in a grouchy grumble that is almost worthy of McCoy. But he is trying to be patient; perhaps Hornblower proposed the tunnel idea. Perhaps that is why Kennedy is being so insistent about it.]

In the tunnels there will be confusion. There will be nervous murmurs and conjectures and fear. There could be floods, of course, or a collapse. We've seen that happen in the past.

Then why do some who've been here as long as you have want to move people there? You'll risk her safety because you don't want to frighten her, Jack.

And you'll risk her safety and frighten her into the bargain! [Now he is openly angry.] There are plenty, Kennedy---just in case it's escaped you---who are not fleeing to the tunnels. As for those who are, I have no interest in what they plan or do. They are not making a wise choice. I've always done my part to keep my crews alive---through foul things. Much fouler things than this, and never through want of thinking something through or overreacting.

Jilly isn't a part of your crew, is she? She's a small girl and you know what happened to her and you've let this desire to treat her delicately cloud your judgment when you've no bloody idea what to do with a child like her in the first place.

[Yeah. He went there.]

[Jack was filled with the sudden violent desire to shoot the man. A hand strayed to his pistol.

NO. No. Just....no. He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to release that unwanted violence. The tensions in this moon-threatened village were running too high.]

And you, sir, have spoken out of turn. She has wanted for nothing. That child has wanted for nothing. And you are so busy prevaricating you cannot see the sense of truly protecting her rather than flocking underground to a dubious end. Go dance with the devil you don't know, Lieutenant Kennedy. I'll shelter the child from the devil I do.

You're not her father, Jack, and I don't trust your judgment with her.

[There it is, laid bare.]

So sorry to hear that, Kennedy. Good day to you. [And he begins to walk off again.]

[And, if possible, Archie will grab the collar of Jack's shirt in desperation.] Listen to me!

[Well that pulls him up short. Jack turns on the other man, glowering at him.] I listened. You're just going to have to trust me, Kennedy. I won't let her come to harm.

Why do I have to trust you? You and Buffy have her walled up in that house as if she's your own, as if you're the only ones who love her, and you're the only ones who could possibly know what's best for her. She's my sister, Jack.

[He's referred to her as such before, but never with such possessiveness.]

Who appointed you her father?

I'm not her father. [That was snapped back.] But I love her. And she's hardly walled up. She's been out and about, all over the village. You're talking like a madman, Kennedy. We haven't imprisoned her. She's four.

Did I say imprisoned? I didn't, did I?

What other meaning should I take away from "walled up." We're not turning her into a nun, if that was your suggestion.

Over-protecting, Jack.

...Can someone be turned into a nun?

Well they can bloody well be turned OUT OF a nun!

[Angelica. Corrupted. Convent. Jack turns away again; he is truly in no mood for this argument.]

And I can think of no one better to over-protect. If that's my sin? Then hang me, Kennedy.

Come off your high horse, Jack. She isn't yours to over-protect. I gave you a good socking last time you tried, and I still think you deserved it. You're not even protecting her from anything real.

Sock me again, Kennedy. I dare you. And if it's so not real, then we've no problem, do we. Now, go. Shoo. Away.

I might sock you again if you don't bloody listen.

To what? Her brother? You have no more "right" to her, as you call it, than I. I searched for her every day, Kennedy. Every. Day. I found her, me and Murphy. She was muddy and alone and happy as could be, and we took her home and fed her and put her into a warm bed. So get off your own horse and leave me be.

Edited 2011-10-31 03:27 (UTC)

I don't bloody care if you've searched for her. Being a good hunter doesn't make you a good--

[He stops and looks away, suddenly completely unmotivated to continue this. He still wants to punch Jack, wants to fight him, but this is going nowhere. He can't even try to protect Jilly. It's not a "being the better man" thing, but complete despair and the feeling of utter futility.

That's a feeling that makes him want to lash out even more.]

With friends like you, Jack Sparrow.

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all7seas - 2011-10-31 03:41 (UTC) - Expand

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simplestgift - 2011-10-31 03:44 (UTC) - Expand

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