lucetilogs | (no subject)

Who:

noprevaricating
What: SHIP. And twin bonding.
When: November 3rd
Where: Luceti ocean, Britannia
Summary: The Britannia needs painting, and the sailors want time on their ship.
Rating: PG-13 (rating subject to change, depending on topics discussed)

It was, perhaps, overly nostalgic.

But when tan paint and blue paint had been found in the item shop and the large brushes needed to apply it, Horatio Hornblower had not been able to stop himself from grabbing it and carting it through the transporters to Britannia. It had taken some time over the last couple of days, but enough had been found to paint the whole of the ship. White for the deck and the other two for the rest.

The colours of the Indefatigable.

Britannia was... Horatio smiled at the thought as he put a few cans of the gold paint into one of the jolly boats ready to be lowered down to paint her sides. Britannia might well be a daughter of Indefatigable. Not the same ship, not in the slightest, but some parts of that lovely frigate seemed to have found their way into the design of the ship the two men who'd served on her had fallen in love with.

All he was missing-- safely tucked away in the captain's cabin-- was his uniform coat, but without it and with the first three buttons of his waistcoat undone, Horatio Hornblower looked remarkably more casual than he usually did. Then again, he knew all too well how easily paint could get everywhere.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I may have...invited Admiral Norrington to our next officers' dinner. A little."

Horatio laughed a little, flashing a smile. "Well, I think we can forgive that, certainly."

"Are you certain? We don't have a brig or even a grating, but I could always be left on the t'gallant mast with naught but a biscuit and my wits to help me climb down."

"...You'd have fun with that," Horatio replied, smirking a bit. He considered for a moment, then said, laughing, "I could always lock you in an attic."

"It would serve me right. I'm nothing but a scoundrel, Horatio. A terrible influence. You should know better than to entertain my presence aboard your ship."

"Come now, Mister Kennedy. If I did not have you on my ship, you would be causing mischief elsewhere. Best keep my eye on you and keep you in line."

"Then why is it you're always following along, Mr. Hornblower?"

"Because I have to try and make you behave, Kennedy. It's hardly my fault you find trouble anyway."

"I find trouble, do I? I find trouble? Who was it who held back the butcher so you could escape?"

Provoking an age-old disagreement.

"I seem to remember holding the man back while you escaped."

He grinned.

"You were drunk, Horatio. You could barely stand, let alone keep an angry butcher at bay."

"Oh, yes, and you were the bastion of sobriety."

"I'm a Scot, Horatio. I can therefore consume the same amount of my father's whiskey and be considerably more able than any Englishman."

"Or perhaps it simply addles your memory too much."

"Did you not hear what I just said? Or shall we have a drinking match to settle this?"

"A drinking match will not prove that your memory of the event is not faulty."

"But it will prove the most likely story, will it not?"

"Perhaps."

"That settles it, then." Archie put down his paintbrush and prepared to drag Horatio back onto the deck.

Horatio laughed. "Really, Mister Kennedy. No work ethic at all."

"Priorities are priorities, Mr. Hornblower. This is more important." Any opportunity to get Horatio smashing drunk, anyway. Not to mention they had all week.

"You're as bad as a rating, Archie." But it's said with full fondness. "Any excuse to get at liquor."

"Correction, Horatio: any excuse to get you at liquor." Dragging him across the deck.

"Even though I don't like drinking."

So he said. Often. Yet it seemed that in the company of Archie Kennedy (and sometimes William Bush), he was as fond of alcohol as any sailor could claim to be.

"You like drinking with me."