Cornelius Hickey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spotsalone) wrote2025-04-11 07:04 pm
spotsalone) wrote2025-04-11 07:04 pm
Entry tags:
angelo and the hickster's post-belle arctic adventures
MUTINEERS
SOLOMON TOZER
MARINE (T)
GEORGE HODGSON
LIEUTENANT (T)
CHARLES F. DES VOEUX
MATE (E)
MAGNUS MANSON
AB (T)
JOHN LANE
BOATSWAIN (T)
JOHN DIGGLE
COOK (T)
WILLIAM PILKINGTON
MARINE (E)
JAMES RIGDEN
COXSWAIN (E)
JOHN SULLIVAN
CAPT. OF MAINTOP (E)
ROBERT FERRIER
AB (T)
ROBERT THOMAS
MATE (T)
John Diggle
COOK
John Diggle
COOK
mutineers:
- Sgt. Solomon Tozer, marine (T)
- Magnus Manson, AB (T)
- Lt. George Hodgson, lieutenant (T)
- Charles Des Voeux, mate (E)
- Pvt. William Pilkington, marine (E)
- John Diggle, cook (T) - lung damage from inhaling goodsir's evil cloud
- THE STUPID FOX
Pvt. James Daly, marine (T)- mauled by the TuunbaqEdmund Hoar, captain's steward (E)- throw into the water by the Tuunbaq"Pvt." Thomas Armitage, gunroom steward (T)- mauled by the TuunbaqHarry Goodsir, surgeon (E)- rescued by Silna after the Tuunbaq attack
boat boys:
- John Lane, boatswain (T)
- James Rigden, coxswain (E)
- John Sullivan, captain of the maintop (E)
- Robert Ferrier, AB (T)
- Robert Thomas, mate (T) - actively dying of scurvy for the crime of having two first names
- and perhaps eventually lt. little depending on how much of our minds we lose along the way
Thomas Terry, boatswain (E)- died from scurvy before the mutineers showed upThomas Work, AB (T)- died from scurvy before the mutineers showed up
angelo cr chart
mutineers cr chart...
timeline:
- arrival; late july, mutineers' hill
- tent chats; early august, temporary camp
- spotting the ships; late august, terror camp
- tuunbaq attack; sept 1, ice floe camp
- boarding terror; fellas it's gay; early sept, hms terror
- dog to dog communication; early sept, forecastle
- bark bark bark; early sept, on deck
- coat! and post-tozer debrief; early sept, angelo's cabin
no subject
Once, yes.
[ He takes a deep drag from the cigarette before continuing. Smoking is a habit he'd also been in as a younger teenager, but it feels different now. Back then it had been frantic, a way to placate his shaking hands and a way to poison himself on his own terms. It had tasted like filth, but that hadn't mattered. Anything would do, in those days. Cigarettes, alcohol, drugs... Though addiction would have spelled his death, Angelo had danced on the brink of it, just to dull all sensation of being alive. Smoking now has a more leisurely feel to it. He doesn't feel compelled to it often, either. It's a thin invisible string connecting him to the Elias of that fateful night at the Promenade, and a small diversion for moments of downtime. ]
A class trip, back when I still went to school. Our colony only had smaller ponds, but we went to a neighboring one for a weekend, with a large artificial lake. The boat was tiny, basically just a restaurant on the water. I don't remember much of that trip, just that I hadn't wanted to go.
[ Leaving his mother for several days had been terrifying. ]
no subject
Those concepts will settle for him over time, he assumes. They're not important now. Instead, he watches Angelo smoke. It's a good look for him—and Hickey likes how conspiratorial it feels between them. ]
Why didn't you want to go?
[ He could point out that boarding Terror will be nothing like that, but it's a given. He'll also wait to warn Angelo about seasickness until they're properly on the water. ]
no subject
Is that why he isn't evading the question? Her color? Or is it the calming smell of nicotine? The way Hickey smiled at him just a bit ago? Or just that he's tired of keeping it all inside forever? ]
... I hated staying out overnight. Even though the house I lived in was a horrible place.
[ He exhales another puff of smoke and turns his head to glance at his companion as he continues speaking. It's difficult to imagine what Hickey will make out of this story, so it feels paramount to watch for his reaction - and maybe stop speaking, if need be. ]
But within that house... there was a singular sanctuary, a bed with clean white linens, that housed my mother. She couldn't leave it - she was more of a ghost than a woman already. I hadn't realized that yet, not truly, but I still felt afraid whenever I left her for too long. I thought she'd fade away if I let her out of my sights.
[ And she did, but that was later. The best and worst thing that could have happened to Angelo at the time. ]
no subject
Then again, there have been clues, haven't there? Angelo's obsession with laundry, cleanliness, purity... With the way he describes the scene, Hickey guesses his mother is the root of it. ]
She was ill, then?
[ His tone is measured, gentle but neutral. He finds it a bit awkward, discussing things like families and parents. It's a touchy subject with most in one way or another, and Hickey can't relate in the slightest. Although he lacked a family, he never had much want for one, either. That longing in him died out early, when he realized it was pointless to pine after impossible things.
To Hickey, a bedridden mother sounds more of a terrible burden than anything cherished, but he knows better than to let that opinion slip through now. ]
And you took care of her.
no subject
[ It bothers Angelo a little that he can't read Hickey's reaction properly, but then... what reaction is he supposed to have to this? This past is Angelo's, a pointless little anecdote to anybody else. Sharing it serves no real purpose - if anything, all it does is give Hickey power over him. And still, he finds that he wants to keep speaking. Up here on the ice wall they're in a bubble of their own... Not safe, because nowhere is safe without the Captain, but something close to it. ]
Physically, my mother was fine. It was her mind that was gone. And no matter what I would do, she never once recognized me again.
[ Ten years. Ten long years of being tied to a ghost on a bed, anxiously looking into eyes that would look right through him. A woman who was awake and yet already dead. Some days she would speak, but she'd never say his name. Angelo's childhood had been spend at her bedside, with futile attempts to fill that empty vessel with life once more. ]
All I could do was "pray". That was the payment for letting us stay at that place.
[ A hollow 'prayer' given into moist bedsheets. An offering of tears. Angelo doesn't elaborate on it. ]
She died when I was about to turn 13, and I could finally run away.
no subject
He's about to risk asking what happened to her, but he stops short, brow furrowing as he remembers something. As contentious as their conversations have been about Angelo's polaroids, Hickey did not actually get much of a look at them. He quickly recognized what he was witnessing and had the mercy to look away for both their sake.
But he does recall a woman in one of the pictures. He wrote it off at the time, assuming it part of some larger context he was not aware of and did not want to be. Now, the image slots into place. Ah. ]
That can't have been easy.
[ There's a beat. Hickey chews on his cigarette. ]
I didn't have parents.
[ It's an emotionless statement. He has no desire to open his own book right now, but he's at a loss for what else to say. It'd be one thing if he was angling for something specific, but he doesn't do that much with Angelo anymore. ]
Where did you go, after?
no subject
To the actual question, Angelo shrugs. ]
Here and there. I left the colony by stowing away on a spaceship, and found a bigger city to disappear into, and then a few others after. Stole some, dug through a lot of garbage, the whole nine yards of gutter scum survival.
[ It took him a while to get good at it, and he got caught and beaten a lot. Going from being waited on by maids, even if those maids disdain you, to having no money to buy even a slice of bread was... a transition period, for sure. That's not part of the story he wants to tell to Hickey though, he'd prefer to seem more competent and aloof right now. ]
In the end, I found out I was better at taking it than I was at taking from others. A certain type of man will pay a lot for a pretty face with the right bits attached.
[ It's kept deliberately casual, but the increased frequency at which he raises the cigarette to his lips during this part of the narration betrays that he's still somewhat nervous about it. ]
no subject
Mm. I understand. Survival is not glamorous.
[ Said with a tone suggesting he's been there himself, at least when it comes to disappearing. He can't relate to the specifics, but he's made that sort of decision before, sinking into depravity just to keep his heart beating. He's come to view that willingness as a form of rebellion.
He tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear, taking a moment to watch the sun drift slowly toward the horizon. ]
You played to your strengths. That's admirable. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
[ At that, there's a knowing grin. ]
Though you've never had issue standing up for yourself, have you?
no subject
If Hickey had met him then, had seen the depths of his degradation, would he still have called it admirable? Surely not. A man such as him would always see better options. A man like him would always have had a goal to look towards. So there's no reason to get excited, but...
It's a little too late to pretend that he hadn't felt anything. Too late to return that grin just as casually, when he's feeling almost flustered. It turns into a smile that feels out of place on his face in its unusual bashfulness. ]
If you'd employed even half of the honeyed words you're using now back then, maybe you'd have avoided a beating.
[ Maybe. But probably not. ]
no subject
If I had, I would've deserved the hit even more. I would've been playing you.
[ He says it easily, but as the words leave his mouth, he wonders if that's the first time he's ever outright admitted his tactics. Manipulation doesn't tend to work when others know to watch for it. His cunning nature is no secret anymore, but even still, he maintains a level of plausible deniability if he refuses to confirm its truth.
He takes another pull of his cigarette. What a smile Angelo is wearing now. ]
But I'm not now. Do you trust me?
no subject
Only the Captain is worth trusting.
All the lightness collapses in on itself, and Angelo's chest suddenly feels tight. Elias' smile is familiar and comforting - when did it become his smile that comforts him? When did he start to think 'a man such as him'? Elias is trash like himself, the only person at that castle with no right to look down on Angelo, so when did his judgement start mattering? Nicotine in his lungs and claws in his heart, Angelo is being corrupted. And even though he goes to search for Frontal's guidance in his heart, the red figure remains dispassionate, looking out the viewport towards an abyss Angelo cannot follow to.
The Captain isn't here. Elias is. It hurts. ]
I'd be a fool to trust you.
[ Anyone would be, when Hickey is a self-confessed manipulator, and a survivalist beyond compare. Angelo could leave it at that, climb down the wall and end the conversation here, effectively protecting his soul. He could even wander off from camp, disappear into the ocean of ice floes, and remain fully Frontal's until the end of time. A monument to loyalty, preserved for eternity.
But what use would that be, to anybody? Though it suddenly stings with renewed intensity, Angelo has chosen Hickey. ]
But I believe you. I believe that you mean it.
[ And if he's to get hurt for it, it'll have been his own fault.... but he'd make Hickey pay for it all the same. ]
no subject
That's precisely why it stings, hearing the answer said so simply. Hickey's easy smirk morphs into something tighter, a careful mask to hide his true reaction. Angelo has been on the receiving end of every ounce of benevolence Hickey has been able to conjure in himself since arriving in that palace. It's worth little compared to the readily-supplied selflessness of so many others, he knows this, but he... Perhaps he's slipped too low on the face of that cliff, as well. Perhaps he made the choice between survival and camaraderie sometime long before he met Angelo and there's no recovering that lost ground, not when self-preservation is so deeply rooted within him.
And really, how far would he bend himself for Angelo's sake? He is kinder to Angelo than most, but there is no great sacrifice in that kindness. He felt noble for a time, having taken a bullet in coming to Angelo's aid, but...
That's not the calculation you made in your head when you did it, is it?
He should not have asked. He should've let this moment be as it was, too. ]
Not much difference between those things, is there?
[ Maybe there is, maybe there isn't. He'll have to analyze all of this later, when he's not navigating a conversation he's made treacherous.
He glances out at the ships again. They've begun to furl their sails for the night. There's still some daylight left yet, but they likely can't afford to make use of it with their skeleton crews. That will change soon. Bothering with two ships is pointless, to start. He'll consolidate their crews, their supplies. They'll run with full sails, get as far south as they can before winter closes in, chart a new course if they have to. Complete the Passage, likely—and then burn the charts. Bugger the empire. They don't get to build their trade routes on the backs of dead men.
He's lost for a moment in that strategizing. This is what he's best at, isn't it? Survival may be no salve for loneliness, but he's yet to meet a man that can outclass him there. He's capable of more than anyone realizes—even Angelo.
But survival is a cheap goal, he reminds himself. He can do better. His attention returns to Angelo, and again his expression shifts as his confidence returns. Now, there's determination in his eyes. Angelo followed him out here to see what it means to truly live, by Hickey's definition. Up to now, he hasn't bothered to define such a goal further. He likes to keep his options open, as he's said.
The goal is clear to him now: He will change Angelo's mind. Hickey wants to be trusted, wants to be wanted, as sorry of an admission it is. He will earn this. ]
We ought to be heading back.
[ Though he makes no move to go. ]
no subject
But he does believe him. Angelo finishes his cigarette with a last deep drag and then puts it out on the ice. ]
Yes, we should.
[ He also looks quite hesitant to put that plan into action. He's not particularly eager to be alone with his new-found realizations - but then again, being with Hickey is just as bad, isn't it? He'll never get his head on straight as long as he's spellbound by the other's presence. With a sharp inhale, Angelo turns towards the camp.
As he starts walking, he turns his head back to Hickey and adds, as if in afterthought: ]
Next time we have a minute, tell me how you got to be here.
[ A story for a story. ]
no subject
Angelo starts back down the wrack and Hickey holds his spot leaning against the ice ridge for a moment. The ships out on the water feel so close that they've made him impatient. He is not tired. He doesn't want to rest, to linger in this unease when they could be charging forward.
He pushes off the ice, then tosses the remains of his cigarette toward the water and turns to follow Angelo. ]