Human Voices Wake Us As We Drown

[J. Alfred Darrow]

This wasn't fun anymore.

Not that he had ever really expected it to be that enjoyable. Alfred had always felt a bit out of place at social events, truth be told, even before he'd been shipwrecked and ostracized from civilized society. He had gone to a few events, but they had always seemed a bit stuffy and formal and pretentious for a rough-and-tumble, middle class sailor. He'd only come tonight because Paul had convinced him he could use the opportunity to look for sponsors for the upcoming expedition, but it had become clear quite quickly that this had only been an excuse. Paul was more interested in looking for women, and although Alfred wasn't trying to follow his lead, he had accidentally stumbled upon a woman all the same.

Maybe it would have been easier if she hadn't looked so good, perhaps even more beautiful than he remembered her and stunningly dressed in her mermaid gown.

Maybe it would have been easier if she'd been kinder, or maybe if she'd been crueler.

The point was, Alfred was just about done with the night. He didn't want to talk to anyone, and he certainly didn't want to try and impress potential sponsors. From the moment he and Vera parted ways, all he wanted was to find Paul and go home. Once he was out of here he could reevaluate what he wanted--maybe it would include some drinking. He couldn't really say; right now, out was the main thing.

Paul was on the dance floor, though--of course he was--and Alfred wasn't quite upset enough to go and pull him away from some unsuspecting partner. He decided to go find the refreshment table instead, and turned in that direction with purpose--only to realize that he'd gotten caught on someone's costume as he walked by only a few steps in. There was something black and feathery in his face, and he frowned as he struggled to disentangle himself from it before realizing with some surprise that he recognized the woman on the other end of the costume.

"Oh, Miss Zelda," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take your dress with me when I went."

@'Zelda Fisk' @'Cassius Lestrange'

  

[Zelda Fisk]

She was, Zelda realized, following Lou Jameshill's ball advice for people who hated balls.

She kept a champagne flute in hand all night, lightly sipping it lest anyone ask her to dance. It was working, too - she'd avoided dancing by taking light sips and talking enthusiastically about anything and everything. She wasn't usually invited to balls that were this fancy, excepting the queen, but apparently the Fisks were now slightly famous because of Katia and Ross. The wings on her raven costume fluttered behind her and the champagne flute also solved another problem entirely - as long as she held it, she didn't have to figure out what to do with her hands.

But now she was out and it was time to scurry back to the refreshment table before she could be too awkward. It was probably this thought that jinxed her, because Zelda felt a tug as someone got caught on the wings of her costume. Zelda grimaced, and turned, and found herself facing Mr. Darrow, of sailing adventure fame.

"Mr. Darrow!" she said, more surprised than anything else. She hadn't expected him to be here - this was a bit of a rich people thing. "It's entirely alright - and you're a pirate!"

  

[J. Alfred Darrow]

He wasn't sure what had brought her first name to his lips, rather than the more proper Miss Fisk; he supposed he'd just remembered Zelda first. It was more interesting, and thus more memorable; he'd known Fisks before but he'd never met a Zelda. She didn't seem to mind, either, or if she did she wasn't the sort to make a fuss about it in the middle of a party, so he supposed he hadn't misstepped too badly. He was still getting used to socializing with normal people again, and he often didn't realize that what he was doing was unseemly or strange until people reacted to it as such. If someone was going to give him a pass on being a little odd, he was perfectly willing to take it at face value.

"I am," he agreed, glancing down at his own costume. A little romanticized, as far as pirates went, but costumes were always rather romanticized. "Maybe for more than just Halloween," he joked, before realizing that as far as jokes went, that probably didn't make much sense. Despite the fact that they'd gone sailing, briefly, they were not actually friends, and so she would have no idea that he was currently in need of ships and had very little means to acquire said ships. He wasn't actually planning on commandeering any, if he couldn't get the funds together, and hopefully Miss Zelda Fisk didn't think he was the sort who might really become a criminal on the high seas.

"Er," he said rather awkwardly, unsure of how to clarify without launching into much more exposition than Miss Fisk probably wanted. After thinking and coming up with no graceful way to manage it, he eventually just said rather lamely, "That was meant as a joke."

  

[Zelda Fisk]

Zelda grinned; perhaps his joke had flown a bit over her head but she was rather inclined to give anything with pirates a bit of slack. And besides that - Mr. Darrow was fun. He was an adventurer, and he was unlikely to judge her for being weird at a ball; he was much more likely to be weirder than she was.

"Have you found a way to be a real pirate, then?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him, "I rather wanted to be one when I was small, but was informed that it was no longer a real career." That had been significantly before she had capsized a boat, and had not done nearly as much to dissuade her as the boat had.

  

[J. Alfred Darrow]

She was smiling, which was, he supposed, a sign that he wasn't sticking his foot in his mouth too badly. Honestly, he was a little baffled. He certainly felt rather out of place and awkward at the moment. He'd been feeling that since he arrived, really, since this was his first evening out in... honestly, nearly six years. He hadn't ever been good at it back when he'd been in practice, and he was certainly conscious of how rusty he was at this particular skill. On top of that, he felt even more off-kilter now, perhaps because of the interaction he'd just come off of with Vera or perhaps because he was making stupid jokes or perhaps for some other reason he hadn't determined yet.

Miss Fisk was gracious enough not to call him out on it, though, or else oblivious enough not to notice (he didn't know which), and so he supposed their conversation was going to just clip on as though he wasn't being awkward. "It's not difficult to be a pirate," he pointed out. "You just have to commandeer a boat that doesn't belong to you. I don't know if I'd say it was a career, though," he said with a half-smile and a slight shrug. "Any more than being a pickpocket is a career. And at any rate, it really wasn't ever a very suitable career for young ladies," he teased lightly. There were stories of female pirates--one could not last too long on a boat before hearing tales of Anne Bonny or Mary Read, mostly told by sailors who were missing the presence of women in their lives and eager for any sort of fantasy that would allow them to pretend one might imminently come swooping into their lives once again--but Alfred had always been rather solidly of the belief that women did not belong on ships. At least not on respectable ships.

"If you run into any of my family members, don't tell them I threatened to become a pirate," he added. "They might take you seriously, and I'd be in a good deal of trouble."

  

[Zelda Fisk]

"Anything's a career if you try hard and believe in yourself," Zelda said cheerfully, "And I did commandeer a  boat as part of the project." A canoe was a far cry from a pirate ship but that didn't matter - not for the purpose of poking fun at Mr. Darrow, at least.

"What's the difference between an explorer and a pirate?" Zelda asks, eyes crinkling up at the corners with amusement, "Is it that you don't steal boats? I'm just curious."

  

[J. Alfred Darrow]

Zelda Fisk had a contagious sort of smile, and Alfred found himself grinning along with her even though she was poking fun at him. She certainly didn't seem as though she meant any serious offense, though, and Alfred didn't take himself so seriously that he couldn't handle a joke or two.

"Well, that's the first difference," he said with an easy shrug. "The second is that if pirates find new places, they don't tell anyone about them. They just set up secret pirate coves full of gold and loose women. Whereas, for an explorer, telling people about the things you found is sort of the whole point."

Alfred had entirely swallowed the kool-aid on his former Captain's dream of charting out strange new lands, and he could pontificate on the virtues of being an explorer for an entire conversation, if given the chance. It was a profession as noble in intent as academics and muggle scientists, since the entire goal of an expedition was to add to the overall wealth of human knowledge, but with all the dignity of character and bearing associated with high political office. An explorer was an ambassador to people of the local lands, an archetype of everything it meant to be British - or at least, that was what they were supposed to be. There had certainly been days over the last six years - more often than not, actually - where Alfred felt that he was personally falling far short of the mark his Captain had set out for everything he ought to be, but that had no bearing on the career as a whole. Alfred hadn't ever really been naturally good at anything.

All of this, however, was a little too serious for light party banter.

  

[Zelda Fisk]

Zelda tilted her head at him; she had not expected a serious answer, and yet here Mr. Darrow was telling her something almost-poetic about his ill-fated endeavors. She smiled at him, a little bit embarrassed, perhaps, at her lack of knowledge - but more than anything she is intrigued. She thought that Mr. Darrow had a lot of stories up his sleeves, and she wanted to hear more of them.

"Are you going to tell everyone about your last adventure?" Zelda asked, "In a book, or whatever? Just so that - well, then no one else at a party will be able to ask if you're secretly a pirate."

Not that she suspected Mr. Darrow of having a cave of loose women and gold - he really didn't seem the type.

  

[J. Alfred Darrow]

Even though she followed with the question with a vague reference to party banter, Alfred though he detected genuine interest in her voice. He was, as always, amazed and delighted to think that someone might care where he'd been and what he'd been doing, while he'd been declared dead. The interest that Miss Zelda expressed was different, too, than the sort of polite but tense questions he might be posed by Evander or the much warmer but still very superficial inquiries from his uncle or cousins. She'd referred to it as an adventure, after all, which was a word Alfred didn't even think Evander had in his vocabulary.

"Well, I do have the logs from the whole five years," he admitted almost sheepishly. "I suppose they might make a book. D'you actually think anyone would be interested in reading them?"

  

[Zelda Fisk]

"Well I can't speak for anyone else," Zelda said, because she couldn't, "But I know that I'd be interested in reading them." She grinned. She had never even left the country - could not begin to imagine being one of the sole survivors of a journey like that. 

  

[J. Alfred Darrow]

For some reason the way she was grinning was making him a little self-conscious, and he found himself tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers—though he was grinning, too. The idea that people might be interested in reading through all of that was a little exhilarating, even if it turned out in the end that it was only Miss Zelda Fisk who was interested in reading it.

"Well, maybe I'll see what I can do about that, then," he said with a slightly self-conscious shrug. His smile was still in place, but he felt like his ears might be turning red with the precursor to a blush and he wasn't sure why. "Maybe I could see about finding someone who can draw, too. Illustrate some of them."