The Ghost They Whispered Of

lightsailing‌:

He listened intently as he poured out a cup of tea identical to his own and passed it to Hornblower. With each minute detail dealt between the lines of his words, the more Bram’s interest piqued. Questions ran through his mind like the first drops of rain before a storm. He held his tongue with difficulty, promising himself that all would be revealed in time.

Bram could not help but let a whisper of a smile cross his lips as Hornblower mentioned his ineptitude in the world of politics. He could hardly blame the man, as he was neither bred nor groomed for it. That much had been nearly painfully apparent at their introductory operation together. Edrington, at the time, had brushed it off, for there would, most likely never be an account in which Hornblower was required to take up such a mantle. ( Though, as the sailor was proving at that very moment, one could never truly know a person, including their strengths and weaknesses. )

The great weight that Hornblower had placed on his tale and, therefore, the weight he placed upon Edrington’s advice made him feel legally uneasy. The smirk slipped slowly from his face and his lips straightened with thought. He felt as if he ought to have prepared a contract for this disclosure of such a sensitive topic. Or, at the very least, directed him to a professional lawyer. Edrington asked himself if whatever consequences could be born of this very conversation would be worth the price of Hornblower’s tale. His curiosity won out.

“I still hold you in the highest regard, Mister Hornblower, and so I will do what I can for you, advise you in the best way I see fit. However,” his tone darkened, “before I let you go on, I must say this: you know as well as I do that the greater good must be observed; I will use my best discretion. Do you understand?” Lord Edrington dictated clearly, holding Hornblower’s gaze.

Horatio found hope in that unexpected smile – finding himself seeking out memories of marches long past, from a time when he had belonged in this era of cold clarity and certain logic. The lobsters in their red coats, spilling out over the beach of Quiberon Bay as the dishevelled French royalists made forth with an attempt to restore their monarchy.

Leading a charge up through the south of Brittany and into the country proper – a mission doomed well before the ships had ever left the harbor. Horatio felt a quiet sense of displeasure as he recalled the admiralty’s demands upon Pellew to deliver them to a place no man of Britain had ever truly known welcome, least of all one of a military persuasion, all whilst knowing full well the chances of success had been all but nullified.

Still it was curious, how far away those memories had begun to seem. Years had passed since he had last reflected on those particular ones, though his mind did conjure up the sound of a guillotine to play chorus to his nightmares. For the most part thoughts of that miserable posting had not been consciously sought. Though he had considered the Earl of Edrington in the refined nature of other men – historical figures, in this time – it occured to Horatio now that he never saw the man on a smiling face.

He had known the man’s smile – a shockingly bright thing, and teasing in its lopsided nature – drawn out under misconception, and striking for the reminder of the man’s youthfulness brought to the fore by something so natural, propriety could not wholly steal it away. His memory had kept that unique to the man, though why, he could not entirely fathom.

The fading of that smile was what drew Horatio out of the past – both distant in memory and dangerously close to the fore – as it was indicative to him that business was at hand now, and he could only hope he had impressed enough importance upon his tale and what it entailed that he could trust the lord before him as he promised to do.

And so, when it was made clear to him that the major thought well enough of him to grant him this audience and assist in what ways that he could – but that the greater good would be attended to, regardless of what that might mean for Horatio ( for he could read between the lines well enough to discern that meaning ) he relaxed internally with the registration that he would be taken with proper seriousness.

“I understand you completely, my lord,” Horatio assured, tone at once respectful and steady in his certainty that he had made the right choice. There was a cold dread in him for the possibility of this going horrendously wrong – it would be within Edrington’s rights to arrest him, if not hang him personally – but he wished to believe the man to be more logical than that. He remembered Muzillac well enough to believe this was not a man who would operate on his emotions before the good of England – regardless of his personal feelings toward witchcraft, the threat Napoleon promised was too great to ignore on account of them.

Still, he was quiet a time – debating how best to begin – before finally settling with the very start of it. “The strangest first, then – and the threat at the last, along with the proof of my claims.” He offered, letting the major know there was a tale ahead, and that it needed to be said for the danger to be wholly understood.

“As I imagine to be rather clear from my visage, time has been most queer with me,” Horatio began flatly – well aware that his decade gone showed well upon his features. The length of his hair notwithstanding, there were lines no man of his prior youth would bear, and certainly not gain in the short months he had been missing in. They were particularly notable about the eyes and the edge of his lips where his own smiles hid themselves with craft and care. “In short, what took me from the Indefatigable – what dragged me from my men – was witchcraft of a most impressive and terrible sort.”

He knew it was a terrible accusation, and a wild claim to make. He also knew that there was no way those who witnessed his abduction had not spoken of it to any ear that would listen. Rather than wait to be interrupted, Horatio forged on, tone sharpening. “I found myself awake in the Caribbean. Which was frankly impossible considering we were in bloody Gibraltar at the time, but I swear to you – that is not the frightening part. Rather, it was what I came to discover some months after washing ashore and escaping the woman who found me. I was displaced entirely out of time – 1714, to be precise, and through to 1724 when at last matters aligned to return me to my proper place. What proof I have of that is not nearly so important as the proof I have of how I returned.”

Here, Horatio withdrew from his belt a simple ring, upon which was a most familiar insignia. Setting it into his palm, Horatio’s tone darkened. “Bonaparte has located something England is not prepared to fight against. Worse, he means to utilize it to waken things best left where they were hidden over fifty years ago.”

The ring glowed then, a deep and foreboding blue, and the sound of waves could be heard. Horatio’s expression was stern. “This ring can cast but one spell – but what he brought back can cast very many more, and there is no way that I know of that can prepare the men to face up against magic. I don’t even know where to start, but I can say this. I know this is not enough to make clear precisely how much danger we are in. What can, I will need open space to demonstrate.”

‘ look, what i’m more worried about is you. ’ | William to Horatio

{ Devotion Of Suspect X }

“Mister Bush – “ Horatio could do without coddling from this quarter, and was quite ready to make his opinion on the matter known before he noted the man’s expression. There was nothing in the older man’s features that indicated he meant offense – indeed, he seemed as earnest and loyal as ever, and Horatio even at the height of his melancholy found he could not bring himself to berate the man for attempting to alleviate it as best he could.

Returning his attentions to the paperwork upon his desk rather than continue to wither beneath his lieutenant’s concerned gaze, Horatio traced the line of their best passage north before remarking in a milder tone, “The cause of your concern shall pass as it ever does. It is merely the start of our voyage – shameful as it may be, I will acquire my sealegs in short order.”

His mood, admittedly, was mostly in relation to the fact that despite all his years in service to His Majesty’s Navy, he still had yet to defeat his greatest and most trying of adversaries.

Bloody seasickness.

‘ how did you get that black eye? ’ | Edward to Horatio

{ Hurt Prompts }

Horatio’s jaw worked as he considered his answer. The bruising in question was courtesy of one of the more recently pressed men – and though it was unacceptable by the articles, the man’s plight was one Horatio believed would only be exacerbated by the sort of discipline his actions would incur if brought to the captain. This was something that could be managed, and would doubtless pass as the man settled – presently, Oldroyd was looking after him, and Horatio had no doubt his men would get the fellow settled in short order.

Nevertheless, Horatio found when he glanced toward the captain after too long silent, he knew that to lie would be a grave error. His punishment aboard the Justinian for just such an offense as a midshipman sprang to mind, though he found the impending threat of Pellew’s disappointment to be a far greater motivation toward speaking truthfully now, rather than having it come about in another manner.

“A slight disagreement with one of our newer crew members, sir. Nothing that is not already being handled.” If he could refrain from the name, then by God, he would do so. “I assure you sir, it is not so nearly bad as it looks. Matthews is preparing a mixture so it may be better concealed, however.”

🤙 Bump into my muse | Joji to witch!Horatio?

{ Nonverbal Starters }

He shifts aside without much thought, gaze flicking down to mind the man’s hands – all to familiar with how thrifty the locals in this region can be. There is no need to make a scene about the situation as far as he is concerned – and indeed, were it a man of less distinction Horatio might not have said anything at all.

As it was, he did step back a bit so that he would not need to crane his neck too much to meet the man’s eyes, curiosity driving him. He recognized the blade well before he caught sight of the owner, and a small incline of his head showed his respect for the bearer despite not being the cause of the collision.

Of the Brethren, Mistress Ching was perhaps his favored – not that Tia Dalma was particularly fond of any of them. Regardless, he knew enough to show he had no desire for a fight, and that would simply have to do.

@tidefated

❝ I am no longer a child! ❞ from william the child to horatio

{ 100 Random Starters }

What had he done in his previous life that was so atrocious as to be worthy of a karma this tainted and unfortunate? Horatio did not often lament in a fashion quite so exasperated as this – indeed, more often than not his grief ran far too deeply down melancholic chains for something so light as a mere nuisance such as this, but as it was he found himself fettered by obligation – he could not outright ignore the outburst, but nor could he blatantly punish it, what with the boy’s rank. Finally, after some consideration, he opted to travel down a middle path that acknowledged matters while also showing them no favor, in the hopes that it might mitigate damage appropriately.

“Such protestations undermine your intentions, Mister Blakeney. A man’s wisdom is best shown by knowing when to argue and when to keep quiet,” That might have been pointed enough, but there was another element to address that Horatio felt obligated to point out as one who often felt out of his depth due to his age, “If you do not wish to be treated as a child, you must never acknowledge the idea you may be seen as one – and any who may attempt to use your youth against you, I would suggest you ignore or outwit, for the more you argue the more certain they will become in their assessment of you.”

💋 from archie to horatio ( because homeboy loves and respects how his bby feels about being dysoned. )

{ Nonverbal Starters }

There was little hesitation as Horatio wrapped an arm around Archie’s waist and dragged the man in close, needing the sensation of his form against his own. The awareness that he was there, present and hale, more than alive but thriving – to feel the warmth and solidity of him as they kissed was more important in that moment than all of England could ever hope to be in the eyes of Horatio Hornblower.

He gave back all that he could, pouring forth his devotion in the hopes that some of it might settle in Archie’s very bones and cleave to them, so that when the nights between were dark and cold that warmth would be there to remind the man that he was loved beyond measure and compare.

Taking a breath as he leaned away, Horatio leaned in to pepper Archie’s jaw and cheeks with kisses – as much out of joy as out of love, each kiss holding a little more smile than the last before he rested their cheeks together and murmured into his lover’s ear, “I’ve missed you. Would that we should never part again, if only it could be managed.”

Unlocking The Cage

@tidefated continued from [x]

Horatio did not press as Bush turned from him, remaining on the other side of the table, his hands still holding to the back of a chair as he contained the true depths of his anger as the state of matters was more wholly revealed. Years as Tia Dalma’s apprentice had taught him a great deal – not the least of which being that there was a certain order to things that was by no means being maintained by the witch who presently held this man’s life bound in contractual service.

He was offended on behalf of Bush – but also as one bound by the arcane. This was by no means excusable, and Horatio was more than ready to take action against it – however, he also knew that doing so without the man’s consent would play its own risks with obligation that he had no wish to entangle in what was already a very strange circumstantial relationship.

They had been through a great deal as officers together – both torn away from the life by magic – and through some grace, found one another again. Horatio wanted nothing more than to free William Bush of the shackles set upon him – and to perhaps gain in so doing a companion he could trust on a journey that held more questions than it did answers. However, it would not do for the man to think even for a moment that he was trading one set of chains for another.

“The requirements of your freedom are not what I am concerned with, Mister Bush,” Horatio stated carefully, stepping at last from around the table to approach his one-time superior. “They are inconsequential to me. What I want to know – what I need to know – is that you desire that freedom enough to allow me to tend to those requirements – and that you trust me enough to know that my assistance here does not forge a debt between us.”

Reaching out, he clasped the damaged hand by the wrist and drew it to eye level, meeting the man’s gaze across from it. “This is abhorrent, not because of what it looks like but because of what it represents. Her power over you – and your willingness to be grateful to her for it because of who it all spared. I would have a better life for you than this – whether I witness it or otherwise.”

✋ TF’s Edward to Horatio

{ Touch Starved Meme }

Horatio could not have said how long he had stood looking out over the sea as the waves crashed in against the cliffside. He had known that between Napoleon and Tia Dalma his hands would be sure to mire themselves in blood once more – but he had forgotten for a time how truly unforgiving war could be. Though they were no longer men of the crown, living as pirates did not change the fact that the war between France and the rest of the world could leave them untouched.

He had known – even as he had called upon the water he had known some part of him would lament his choice. Fury had been cold in his breast as he had pressed his palms against the bleeding chest of one of the Indefatigable’s gun masters, the sound of canon blast deafening as the screams and groans of men both terrified and dying rose up around him.

They had been outmanned and outgunned from the start, but short of magic there had been no escaping the fight. At first Horatio thought they might have evened the odds – but as it became clear no honest men could win this fight, he had done what needed to be. Tia Dalma’s instructions were clear – and he could not afford to lose the Indy or her crew.

He had meant to draw them away – impossibly so upon wave and wind that didn’t touch another ship. It was not the usual working, and his recollection of the spell was limited at best. In the end, the Indy had suddenly surged away from the battle and toward the coast – and waves incredible in height had crashed against their enemies, devastating their ships and overturning them.

In the wake of it, the men were shaken and Horatio had not missed the way Matthews seemed to know who the responsible party was. The Indy had anchored safely, parties rushing ashore for supplies and the desperate need to hide their panic while still more stayed aboard to work on repairs and assisting the wounded.

Though Horatio knew he ought to be part of the latter, having worked a magic so powerful he had ultimately drawn off to settle his spirit and come to terms with the devastating aftermath. And to wonder how many of his own men he might have spared if only he had been brave enough to act sooner.

A firm, calloused hand slid into his own and drew him away from all of it. From horrible contemplation and guilt – for those dead unintentionally, to those dead because he had not killed sooner – to the simple act of comfort presently being offered to him, sure and steady as the man who offered it.

Turning as the wind drew upon his hair, whipping it over his shoulder and making a banner of the curly lengths, Horatio examined Edward quietly for any sign of what he might be thinking. In the end, he stepped forward, shielding himself from the wind by shifting to his knees before the man and bowing his head in a display of surrender even as he held on to the anchor of his captain’s hand.

It was not judgement that he feared. In truth, Horatio’s heart was calm – his surrender an act of choice. With his strength gone, it was his display of trust and vulnerability both, letting it be known that he was not well – and showing that he believed in Edward enough to let the man stand for him, when he himself could not.

The Ghost They Whispered Of

the-empires:

The fire crackling in the hearth of the withdrawing room held Bram’s distant interest as he mused to himself. Five months had passed since the revered sea officer’s disappearance – and not a witness nor accessory nor behaviour of discontent could account for his whereabouts. The major had a strong opinion of Hornblower; he thought the seaman was eccentric and untoward and playfully insubordinate, but cowardly was not and never one of them. Of all the men he would think would desert, Hornblower was the very last.

Desertion was a weak explanation, however. If he wanted to leave the Navy and it’s clutches ( an ambitious task, indeed ), there would be no reason for him to return. Wherever Hornblower had run off to was, no doubt, a better option than returning to be executed as a traitor. Bram did not think Mister Hornblower was a fool, either.

No, there was something quite strange afoot.

He leaned back on the tufted back of the chaise, letting his winding thoughts burn in the fire as he awaited Mister Hornblower. The maid set a silver tray down on the wooden accent table and glanced to the master of the house, opening her mouth as if to ask how he wanted his tea. He cut her off, dismissing her politely. When she did not react how he intended, Bram clarified and thanked her for her work and told her to go home early. She blinked with surprise and a smile, leaving the drawing room quickly.

He took the teapot, white porcelain with flowering forget – me – nots crawling from the handle to the spout, and poured himself a cup of tea. The ceylon leaves gave the hot water the hue of an Indian summer, golden, nearly amber in its strong hue. Bram dropped a perfectly shaped cube of sugar in the teacup just as Hornblower entered, looking every bit the gentleman he had been.

Bram waved away Hornblower’s gratitude with the silver teaspoon.

A wistful smile grew on his face as the man went on. Where the Devil has he been?! It’s a question he’s sure he’s not the first to wonder and is confident he will not be the last to think it, if he knows anything about Hornblower. “It’s so very queer, Mister Hornblower,” he said after taking a sip of tea with an air of well – refined insouciance. “One of the Navy’s finest young officers vanishes without a trace, leaving us to believe you simple fell of the end of the world … or deserted. Neither can be so, though. I have always taken you for a man above such childish acts of cowardice and treason. I am eager to learn the truth, if you will tell it.” His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised the man, who, even after a thorough bath and donning expensive clothes, still possessed an air of wildness about him. “Would you care for some tea?”

“To think your half of the tale is the tame portion,” Horatio offered softly, “Queer does not even begin to describe my life since I was hauled from the Indefatigable.” His choice of words deliberate – he had not had any choice in the matter of his leaving the service, but now was not yet the time to get into it. Instead he smiled, and chose to accept tea with grace first, admittedly needing the heat in his stomach to strengthen his resolve against the cold English air, and the unsettlingly fragile refinement by which he was now surrounded.

He still retained proper etiquette – if, perhaps, more pronounced than it used to be, for the sorts of civilized men he had dealt with in the Caribbean were even more uptight than the ones today, to put matters rather mildly. In comparison to the man of – by Edrington’s recollection – mere months ago, however, it was a great deal more natural. The stiffness and displeasure was gone from him, and he seemed to ease into matters as if he had been taking part in dignified ceremonies such as this the whole of his life.

“You are of course quite right in your assessment – desertion has never been in the cards, and I’ve too great a loyalty to my king and country for treason.” Horatio wasn’t even sure if that was true, but he had loyalty to men who did hold the crown as absolute and that would simply have to suffice. Furrowing his brow, Horatio carefully lowered the china cup to its home upon the saucer and confessed, “I am afraid the tale itself is – very troubling, and has potential for great impact on our nation if only it might be heard by the appropriate parties. Unfortunately politics – as you may recall – are not my strongest suit.” Diplomacy was not a game he had played well in the past, though he was rather adept at its trickery now.

Meeting the other man’s gaze, there was no lie in his earnest manner now, for his desperation was quite real. If this venture failed, he would have no choice but to go about matters above and beyond the law – and he didn’t want to take such actions if he could in any way help it.

“I would like to tell you everything, the whole of it in fact, though I must ask that you bear with me. I have means of proving my words, but what I need first is to impress that I have only the desire to return to my station aboard the Indefatigable, or whatever ship our Navy deems most applicable. I have no wish for the truth to be known beyond where it would be most useful, and I have no notion of where to begin on that score – but I do know that you are a much more diplomatic person than myself, and perhaps with your understanding of both the present climate and my tale, you may perhaps be kind enough to direct me in what I ought to do next for the sake of our security in this blasted war.” The last thing England needed, after all, was Napoleon with a witch at his disposal – or any of the artifacts in which Horatio was tasked to reawaken.

The Ghost They Whispered Of

the-empires:

_{“Hmm,” said Edrington, seemingly unamused. “I would be honoured nonetheless by your presence from beyond the grave.” As much as it would have been easier to, he knew he could not turn the man away. Good hospitality was not only a passion of his, but simply a way of life. And though Edrington wondered what was left of the man that served, he would never turn away an officer to His Majesty’s Navy. Edrington was no blaspheme.}

_{However, his genteel code was pushed to the brink; he was wary of the wild man that turned up at his doorstep. Bram could hardly blame the maid for not wishing to answer the door, and he would not fault her for feeling so. Hornblower’s unkempt appearance ( a grandiose understatement ) pushed him far from even the very fraying fringes of society – any society. Save piracy, perhaps. Surely, Hornblower would not drift so far, no matter where the winds of life pushed him. Edrington simply did not know the trials that could push one to being such a scoundrel.}

_{“I suppose you should come in and sit and I’ll have my maid pour out for us.” Edrington figured that, Hornblower allowing, he would quarter him at his estate until he could get word to the Admiralty about their missing pup and further action could be taken. Action being a court martial, most likely; who was to say where this young man had gone and why when his person belonged to the British Navy? In the meantime, he could make himself presentable to befit anyone who was allowed a room in Lawrence Bram Edrington’s home. “Perhaps a bath would do you good, as well. New clothes, too, if you wish.”}

Horatio’s lips twitched slightly – Edrington’s diplomatic manner had not changed in the slightest. Though he supposed that was understandable, considering the time that had passed for him was so much shorter than the time that had travelled for Horatio. Regardless, he had a feeling Edrington would be far from honored to be pestered by any ghost, let alone the one of Horatio Hornblower. Still – a genteel sentiment, if nothing else.

At the offer of tea and a bath, Horatio could not help but look relieved. “I would greatly appreciate a bath, and some proper attire,” He assured, knowing full well his appearance was a fright. He had no objection to his clothes – in fact he was quite fond of them, and in the Caribbean he would hardly be amiss even now. Here, however, in the height of English gentry, it was best to appear as appalled as he was certain Edrington felt.

Hospitality proved to be an impressive rule on the Edrington estate, for Horatio found his needs tended to with a sort of strict efficiency that seemed quite suited to Edrington’s no nonsense personality – even in kindness, everything was done with brisk exactitude, as though these courtesies were little more than expectation. Horatio supposed for Edrington, they were just that – acts that were expected of a man of his station to be capable of providing.

Bathing took a longer time than Horatio might have liked, and he could not help but grimace at the grime his body left in its wake. There was a certain difference between what was acceptable in English society and what passed for good enough in the Caribbean. Horatio remembered all too well the exacting nature of his proper time period and washed up accordingly, which naturally meant a great deal more process than he had needed to bother with in some time.

He felt strangely ill at ease once all the kohl, paint, ash and other markings of his life had been stripped away, leaving behind a body that bore little sign of its arcane nature once made bare of all such trappings. In the mirror, Horatio could see his age starkly – not just in the length of his hair, but in the wear of his eyes and the fitness of his form. He was fuller than before, more defined than in wiry youth, and it made him glad of the clothes that would conceal a large portion of his truth.

Once dressed, Horatio carefully concealed his belt’s contents upon his person, and took time to brush his hair out so as to not appear completely wild despite the fine dress. After some consideration, he made use of one of his hair ties to keep it all drawn back at the nape of his neck for some semblance of propriety, and considered that to be well enough before he made his way down to meet with Edrington for tea and doubtless, some manner of discussion.

This, of course, would be the more difficult portion. Horatio needed to prepare himself for questioning, as doubtless the sensationalized manner of his disappearance and his sudden return were grounds for suspicion of desertion. The obvious matter of time would likely go overlooked – magic was widely dismissed in this era, and that a man could go ten years while barely a single year passed for the rest of the world was too much to bear, Horatio was quite certain.

But he needed the admiralty and his old position – it would make things ever so much easier – and his best chance at obtaining those things would be convincing Edrington of his tale – and seeking his advice on how to manage something so political as this. The navy and the military were not so different on account of matters such as cowardice and desertion – if he could convince Edrington he possessed no cowardice, and had not chosen to desert, then perhaps he had some manner of hope ahead for an easy path.

Upon reaching the drawing room, Horatio painted on a grateful smile – and it was true, his gratitude, though the smile felt wrong on his face without the tightness of salt and kohl crinkling against his eyes in the action. Some part of him also registered that his old stoic self had smiled so rarely, it was possible the action might make a stranger of him all over again.

“I cannot begin to thank you enough, my lord,” Horatio professed as he took his seat, the title coming naturally and with due deference – something his old self had railed at, and managed quite often to avoid using at all times ( and always sounding terribly stiff about it, rather than at ease with the social distance between himself and the major ) but Horatio had since spent a decade learning the value of respecting a man’s pride in his title only so far as needed to manipulate him through it.

“It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to enjoy the comforts of a civilized society,” Honeyed and earnest words came easily to him, and there was truth enough behind them to cast little doubt. “I fear I may be out of my depth with all that has changed,” And here, he offered the window for investigation openly, leaving the power to direct in Edrington’s court, where doubtless it would be most comfortable.