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[dishonests]

☏ call. ≔ text. 💻 video. ✘ action.

Comments

≔ @ 4am nbd nbd

[romanticism]

Ungodly hour as it may be, I risk the question anyway — are you awake? By any chance?

totally nbd

[dishonests]

That depends. What would you want from me if I was?

☏

[symptomatic]

[ With the most abrupt start to a phone-call: ]

—you weren't kidding about the pirate thing, were you. [ Because now she knows that the truth is out there.jpg. ]

[dishonests]

Good day to you too, Doctor Hadley. [ his smile is almost audible. ] Finally decided to believe me, have you?

text

[a_chipped_cup]

I believe you and I have been linked together for a blind date.

text;

[dishonests]

[ username: ＣＡＰＴ．ＨＡＷＫＩＮＧ ]

Have we now? Well that's happy news.

I don't believe we've met. [ the username isn't familiar, anyway. ] Though I suppose that's the nature of the activity. Tell me, what are your thoughts on seafood?

≔

[akron]

Not to belittle the joys of playing Never have I ever via video, how would you feel about actually drinking together in the same bar at some point?

[dishonests]

I would be most honored, madam. Have you a bar in mind?

text;

[inthequiet]

ahoy, matey

text;

[dishonests]

Ahoy to you, too. To what do I owe the pleasure?

[abetting]

I've heard about half-masts and full masts, but I don't actually know what a mast is.

What do either of those things mean, if we're talking ships?

[dishonests]

You'll have to tell me what a full mast is, because I'm not quite sure myself.

A mast is the tall, pointed thing in the centre of the ship that carries the sails. Half-mast is anything halfway down the mast. Usually means lowering the flag halfway to signal distress or mourning -- like when you've just been raided by pirates.

Why the interest?

✘ @ cupid's

[dishonests]

[ acclimation is an ongoing process. no matter how long cassidy's been here, there are always things he hasn't experienced yet and things he'll probably never find normal, no matter how many times he experiences them. the club scene is the latter type. but just because it's strange doesn't mean he avoids it; on the contrary, there's one club in particular at which he's becoming something of a regular, mostly due to the owner's promise of free drinks whenever he stops by.

but that's not the club cassidy finds himself at tonight. the candy bar departs from pandemonium's high ceilings and enchanted atmosphere; everything seems somehow closer together and more personable. in that way, it reminds him a little more of the taverns at home. in every other way, it's just as strange as every other transplant from the future.

the one constant is always the bar, and that's where he heads once he's through the door, dressed casually in a v-neck shirt and jeans. he's even forgone most of his rings, leaving paler bands where they used to be. the one that remains, he twists around his finger as he leans over the bar. there's a woman standing beside him, facing away, who looks comely enough from the back ( and who's hair color bears a striking resemblance to someone else he knows ). he leans in her direction and says, above the din of the music, ] Evening to you. [ and then, something he's learned since being in eudio, ] Come here often?

[prettier]

[There aren't many women in tonight. This is, firstly, because they have their own dedicated evening, along with the usual mixers. Secondly, because women are the star attraction tonight and, later this evening, a succession of exaggerated versions of femininity will take to the catwalk the streaks down the middle of the floor to mime a selection of international (interplanetary) hits.

Among the jostling crowd, Cassidy doesn't particularly look out of place. Casual is acceptable, though the others wearing similar outfits somehow make them look like they took two hours to choose and style.

His rings wouldn't have been at all out of place.

There is some enchantment about the place - from the glitterball that casts everything in sparkling, colour-shifting shimmers to the general buzz of the place. Even if the staff here happen to be a different kind of fairy.

The girl at the bar is a rare bird in the aviary, her hair a bright beacon in dim light, curling to just above her shoulders and tumbling down round her face as she bends her head over the umbrella of a purple cocktail which - if Cassidy had stepped close a second sooner - he'd have heard her call so gay and suggesting a rename from Purple Rain to the Queen Confirmation.

She's facing away from him, so he won't see her startle between spitting and swallowing at the sound of his voice, though he might catch her (surprisingly graceful) shoulders lift sharply before swallow is the option taken.

The dress she's wearing is simple in comparison with the kind usually on show here. Black ribboned with gold, wrapped in just low enough on the thigh to avoid obscenities so long as she steers clear of bar stools. Cassidy gets a better look at the dress than her face as she turns, head dipped coyly, face shadowed. Voice low, but soft (accent flattened out to something generic.)]

Haven't you seen me before?

[backdated]

[prettier]

[It's late: it's Freddie late, which means it's closer to dawn than midnight and the flat's been quiet and dark for a while before he gets in. Quiet and dark. If things are as usual, the pirate's probably tried usurping his bed. Jem's... not in.

Freddie runs his palms across the wall before giving up on finding a lightswitch, and crashes across the main floor of the warehouse in the dark. Sheer providence results in there being an open doorway to greet him.

His room and Jem's share a wall, so if Cassidy is stealing a nap under Freddie's sheets, he'll be well in earshot of the sound of breaking glass and splintering wood that ensues not long after.]

(ʘ‿ʘ✿)

[dishonests]

[ things are as usual, so the pirate has tried usurping freddie's bed. and since freddie wasn't there to defend it, he succeeded. he'd also succeeded in actually drifting off to sleep, wrapped around freddie's pillow, not only for the comfort of it but because it might annoy freddie if/when he finally decides to materialize. after a certain point, cassidy assumed he probably wouldn't be coming home this night.

that thought is still sitting in the back of his mind when he hears a crash that jars him awake. he's a light sleeper and no stranger to being woken by a commotion. it takes him almost a full minute to realize where he is and that the noise probably isn't a threat to his life. he rises from the floor, where he'd crouched after leaping out of bed, and pads softly through the squat to find the source of the sound.

he doesn't have to go far. a look of confusion etches itself onto his face as he peers into the room. the look only deepens, and grows a touch more concerned, as he steps into the room behind freddie and catches his wrist to keep him from breaking the next thing. ]

What in the devil's bloody name are you doing, Baxter?

[dendrites]

Hello. :)

I recall hearing that you are a pirate and I have a question for you regarding the matter.

Well, the matter of sailing, actually. If you are willing to disclose such information to a queen.

[dishonests]

[ well if this isn't the most pleasant surprise he's had in a while. ]

Ahoy, Your Majesty. I'd not deny a queen nothing. At least, not one as fair as yourself.

What be your question?

text, probably backdated a bit but TIME

[nineteenfortyfive]

Captain Hawking, I was hoping for a moment of your time.

detaaaails

[dishonests]

Lady Fraser. How might I be of service? Surely I've not done something to deserve a scolding. [ this time. ]

[Splish splash I was]

[prettier]

[There is a small earthquake underway.

It seems to only be happening in the flat that Cassidy keeps with Freddie Baxter. Specifically, in the bathroom of the flat. Specifically, in the bath. Should anyone want to investigate the crashing noises and the mysterious fact that all the things that once stood around the bath are now in the bath, along with a certain angry addition they might find that the source of this tectonic disturbance is

a) soggy
and
b) completely unable to get out.]

screaming

[dishonests]

[ despite having spent as much time in eudio as he has, cassidy still has a shaky relationship with magical and supernatural phenomena. most days he prefers to disassociate from it, conveniently forgetting that it was magic that brought him here in the first place. the evidence of time travel and alternate universes, which confronts him at nearly every turn, is more difficult to ignore, but he's found some kind of peace with it.

so, when he hears the commotion in the bathroom, his first thought isn't magic. when he knocks on the door and fails to get a response, he doesn't suspect that freddie might've spontaneously transformed into something that can't speak. and when he walks in and finds the kitten in the bathtub, well.

he doesn't know what to think. ]

What the devil- ?

[ though he has no special affection for cats, no matter how small or pitiful, he does move rather quickly to the side of the tub and reach in to fish the half-drowned thing out. ]

Where in all hell did you come from? [ he looks around the bathroom, baffled to find it otherwise empty. ] Freddie?

text

[nineteenfortyfive]

Do you have a job?

[dishonests]

I have many, though none of them be in what you might consider an official capacity.

[ so, no. ]

text

[nineteenfortyfive]

[This is about the time you'd see Jamie out on the farm somewhere. Hmm.]

Jamie's indisposed today. Do what you can, and I'll be out to make sure the horses are all right. I'll bring you something to drink.

[dishonests]

A bit too rough with him last night, were you?

text;

[prettier]

We've got carol singers at the squat.

[prettier]

Delivery

[mordacita]

[ On Christmas Eve, Cassidy will receive a package containing a bottle of festively spiced rum and a packet of piratey gingerbread men. There's also these, folded neatly at the bottom. The tag attached to the present says, 'Make sure you wear them the next time I see you. For my Captain, from your Majesty.' ]

slightly forward-dated

[dishonests]

[ christmas is a whirlwind of festivity, but once the activities have died down a day or two later, cassidy gets a chance to send rafa his thank-you. the sun has just set when a picture is sent to rafa's phone.

it's a picture of cassidy from the shoulders down, sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing nothing but the boxers rafa sent him. ( someone's getting better at selfies. ) not pictured are the half-eaten packet of cookies and the half-drunk bottle of rum. ]

Do they suit?

XMAS

[prettier]

[Cassidy may have fallen asleep alone, but someone has visited in the night to make sure he doesn't wake up that way.

On the bedside table, three ribboned bottles turn out to contain three different fruity flavoured caribbean cocktails. A coconut cup with a twisty straw and a pack of cocktail umbrellas is also supplied.

Finally, there's a map. Hand drawn, it shows the whole of Eudio laid out in old-fashioned penstrokes, even down to the labelling of places (ye olde dragge clubb). An X marks the warehouse and, at the bottom beside his signature, Freddie has scrawled: How to find your way home.]

[dishonests]

[ the shark is a surprise. he's disoriented for several minutes after he awakes with his nose mashed against the soft plush. the pieces don't fall into place until he finds note at the bottom of the map. he lies back against the pillows, holding the map in front of his face and tracing the penstrokes with his eyes and occasionally with his fingers.

the bottle of spiced rum from rafa is on the floor by his nightstand, the seal already cracked and at least a third of its contents gone, consumed the night before. when the lines on the map start to swim, he sets it back down.

a few minutes later, freddie's phone might ping with an incoming text. it's a picture of cassidy, his face half-hidden by the shark, his one visible eye half-lidded, his hair a mess, with the caption: ]

It's an improvement.

[ whether he meant an improvement over freddie or an improvement over sleeping alone is open to interpretation. if freddie sees it and responds, cassidy won't see it until later. while debating breaking into one of the cocktail bottles, he falls back asleep, curled around his new bedmate. ]

text

[nineteenfortyfive]

Cassidy, do you have a moment to chat?

[dishonests]

For you, Claire? Always.

Delivered Friday 13th January

[albannach]

[ A note is delivered, pushed under Cassidy's door. It's an envelope a fairly elegant one and written on the front it's addressed to 'Captain Hawkins'. Inside the parchment is written with quill and ink. Beneath the envelope sits something wrapped in brown paper.

The text of the letter is perhaps not quite so formal as it might be away from here, and yet there's still something unmistakable of the 18th century about it. This hasn't been penned by a modern man, or by a man that cares for any convention now. ]

Dear Cassidy.

I write this note now in some haste and so I pray you may forgive me for the brevity of the words upon this page. I felt compelled to write to you, my friend, not to simply pass as if the wind changed, or send some small confirmation over the telephone. Though I spoke to you of what was to come, even I could not have anticipated it would come so swiftly. Claire made her decision, and so we must go without pause or time for farewells. But know this, my friend, that our hurried parting has no bearing on either of our feelings for the people we leave behind here.

This city has been a strange and unusual place in a way that I find impossible to measure, and yet amongst the peculiarities I find that it was maybe the strangest of all to have found companionship and familiarity in the form of yourself. I am not able to adequately state what your friendship has meant both for myself and for Claire, in all forms that it has taken, and though I know you have more than a tendency to talk yourself down, I must put it into words now that you are a rare man, Cassidy, and I feel a great joy to have said that I have known you.

The farm is in your care, should we return I do not know, but I trust you will keep the place safe, and the animals too. Fly will want to follow you around I have no doubt, and I know you're good with the horses. Gillie, I give to you. I would entrust him to no other, just as I have entrusted my most precious of loves. Forgive me for bestowing you with such a burden, but I could see it with no other.

Along with this letter I have delivered a small token. My dirk, yours, though I doubt you might be in need of another blade, and my clan pin. You would be welcome at any time within my home. I hope to see you again some day, whether it be that we return here in time to come or I see you upon the shores of Scotland.

With greatest respect and humility,

Your friend,

James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser.

[ and then, should he turn the note over... there's a key taped to the back of it and a note beside it ]

The key to the wine cellar. Don't drink it all at once. Your rum is in the box on the right when you reach the foot of the stairs.

text; (shortly after Jamie leaves)

[prettier]

Why does the flying scotsman want me to tuck you in at night?

[dishonests]

[ the response comes slowly, as if typed with great care. but hey, if you'd spent the last couple of hours sampling the contents of the frasers' wine cellar, typing might be difficult for you too. ]

Damned if I know.

I'd suggest as you ask him yourself, but I reckon that be no longer an option.

action; late night on 21st. (for whenever just adding to your pile tbh)

[albannach]

[ Jamie isn't sure there's anything in his chest now but guilt and self loathing. Does that mean he's still capable of feeling? Well he doesn't really know. It doesn't seem like feeling, but something else, something emptier.

His world has changed in every way, upside down and torn to shreds. They should have never left this place. Never left their friends and the things they care for. People they care for.

Since being back 5 days ago, Jamie's not told anybody that he's here. He's not spoken to any friends, he's not visited anywhere familiar. It might be the guilt that's held him back, not giving him the permission to be anything that would even resemble himself. He told himself he's here for a purpose, and it's that purpose that 2 nights ago had him in another girl's bed.

If he though he was empty before, he was wrong. But now, now he feels truly hollow. Hollow, and drunk, as it happens. Not unsurprising, it seems a constant state. He hasn't dared to go near the farm, and yet tonight he can't get the thought out of his mind that he needs something that's there. A ring that Claire gave him. The thought of it consumes him.

So the middle of the night in the snow and the dark seems a perfect time to make his way out of the city and towards those haunted old rooms. He doesn't enter like he owns the place, and he supposes he doesn't any more. Just like Lallybroch. He's lost everything. So a side door is tried, and another looking for something that might be open. He makes it inside, though he's hardly as quiet as he might think he is.

Straight away, he heads for the stairs. ]

weeps quietly

[dishonests]

[ the farm is still standing. not much else can be said for it, since cassidy only had three days after the original owners left before the storm hit. he did make sure the animals were cared for during the worst of it, but there's been no sign of green since the initial blizzard. the fields are a blanket of white. cassidy's tracks and those of other farmhands ( and assorted animals, mostly the dogs ) draw dotted lines between the house and the stables and animal pens.

keeping the farm running has been his main focus since they left. it has less to do with any sort of love he has for farming ( he has very little ) and more to do with wanting to honor and preserve his memories of claire and jamie. since they left he's spent a fair amount of time at the house, not just for the purposes of tending to the animals, or making sure the food they left behind doesn't go to waste, or on a few occasions using their bed, but because the house still feels like them. in a masochistic way, it's comforting.

the night jamie decides to visit his old home is a night when cassidy has decided to stay over. he'd spent the afternoon with the animals. by the time the sun set, he was cold and more than a little tired, and the trek back to the beach didn't seem worth the effort. he's sleeping soundly in their bed when the noise wakes him.

jamie's dirk is in his hand before he knows what's happening. he follows the noise to the stairwell and waits at the top, just around the corner. he's never had to deal with intruders in this place, but his old instincts are in overdrive, and as soon as jamie arrives at the top, he'll be greeted by the cold steel of his own blade against his neck. ]

Who goes? Speak, or I'll cut your throat ear to ear.

text sometime after the 25th

[nineteenfortyfive]

Guess who.

; v ;

[dishonests]

[ he can't guess who, not at first. not for several long moments. he didn't dare to hope they might return, and even after getting jamie back, he doesn't dare to hope claire is back, too.

but the username is unmistakable. either it's her, or someone playing a very cruel trick. so, he dares. ]

Claire?

[during the blizzard]

[prettier]

Need anything from the shop?

[dishonests]

The shop? [ freddie no. ] You'd be bloody mad to be out in this weather.

[also during the blizzard, Some Time Later]

[enarms]

Are you at the warehouse? Is Freddie there?

[ please. fuck, please. ]

[dishonests]

[ the first that strikes him as odd is: john watson messaging him. period. the second thing is: ]

I am, but nay, but Freddie's not. He's supposed to be with you.