spooning? more like let’s see how much “accidental” booty wiggling it takes to get him hard
He began to feel that life in the Navy, although it seemed to move from one crisis to another, was really one continuous crisis, that even while dealing with one emergency it was necessary to be making plans to deal with the next.
“Aye aye” came back the answering hail from the lusty lungs of the woman at the stroke oar; by the curious and ages-old convention of the Navy the reply meant that the boat had an officer on board — presumably the huddled figure in the sternsheets looking more like a heap of trash with a boat-cloak thrown over it.
C.S. Forester and the canonical introduction to our beloved Hornblower (via oceanmotioned)
the violin lonesomely gives its tune as an answer to the pressing questions uttered by the foreboding orchestra. both soloist and accompaniment grow in intensity as those questions and the lost time and things that logic and reason simply cannot answer imply hangings and slander. the woodwinds hint at memories that have long been shrouded by the fogs hugging parts of the unknown world, and, occasionally, even of memories before horatio even disappeared. eventually, about six minutes in, the dizzyingly high serenade of the solo violin begins to wind down as the timpani roll their realisation of the arcaneness that has taken horatio, reclaimed him, and spat him back out into the ignorant world.
this piece embodies the misunderstanding of the depth that lies beyond england’s pompous idea that they know all there is to know. it is a cup of tea in the dark of a drawing room with a man who had all but fallen off the earth, a maze of questions and answers and the warping of time and man’s understanding.
Ocean Archive 