✎ Fel's Creative Journal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tinfoiltennis) wrote2011-01-31 07:58 pm
tinfoiltennis) wrote2011-01-31 07:58 pm
✎ chapterfic - hetalia/ebz - it was not meant that we should voyage far [10/?]
Title: It was not meant that we should voyage far. [10/?]
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia/Echo Bazaar
Characters: Every nation ever at one point or another. This part: Canada, America, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Portugal.
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter.
Summary: An Echo Bazaar crossover AU. Fallen London: once capital of the British Empire, now home of the Bazaar, a mile underground and a boat ride away from Hell itself. Deep. Dark. Expensive. Marvellous. Here you can find everything from immortality, to unnervingly good mushroom wine.
Or so the stories go.
But stories can rarely be trusted, and all the wildest stories in the world couldn’t have prepared Alfred and Matthew Jones for what they would find when they descended into the fallen city on a journey that would lead them right into the heart of a rebellion against the Masters of the Bazaar themselves…
Word Count: This part: 4415
Notes: Once again, the continuation of the long haul that started as my NaNo project for last year. :'> The title is from an HP Lovecraft quote, “We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.”
Warnings: General warnings: A crossover with a (very addictive) online game, a lot of speculation and elaboration on my part on the universe of that game, human!AU, the occasional bit of 1800s sensibilities, and later on in the fic, a lot of OCs. :’> This chapter: NaNo quality writing, bad accents, my shipping bias finally rearing its ugly head, and what is mostly a filler chapter. ^^
✎ ✎ ✎
Matthew sighed and struck another line through another name on his list. “It looks like it’s another lost cause,” he told Brigid with a glum face. “That jeweller near Ladybones Road said that she wasn’t hiring anyone right now either.”
He was sat at the kitchen table of the pub again with a small handwritten list in front of him and a small, stubby pencil in hand. He’d just collapsed back into the pub after another frustrating and ultimately fruitless day of searching for a job. Since finding themselves stranded down in the fallen city – had it really only been a few days ago? It somehow felt like it had been a lot longer – both Matthew and his brother had decided that the best thing either of them could do was try and find some way to pay their way while they were down here. They’d both agreed that they owed money to Brigid for the use of her pub as their lodgings, and more than that, they knew that if they were ever going to make it back to the surface, they would probably have to pay, and Matthew didn’t have high hopes of it being cheap. Besides, if he was working, he wouldn’t have as much time to make himself depressed over their situation. And on Alfred’s part, maybe, just maybe, finding a job would keep his brother out of trouble. Brigid had agreed that it was a good idea and sent them both off with a list of all the places she knew that they might find work, and so here they were, six days on and still with no success. Alfred wasn’t even back yet from his own day of searching. Matthew wondered if his brother was having any more luck today than he was.
“Don’t be feelin’ too disheartened, Matthew,” Brigid said to him, turning from her position at the stove to smile at him. “Takes a while to find a job in any city, it does, and more so in London. ‘Tisn’t really gold that the streets here are paved with, never has been, and ‘tis even more true since the city ‘twas moved down here. Just don’t be givin’ up now, y’hear?”
He smiled at her. “I know,” he told her, but truthfully, he was feeling a little disheartened. He couldn’t help it. He must have tried dozens upon dozens of places in the city already, and there was still nothing. At the moment, he thought, playing with the pencil in his hand, he’d be happy to take on odd jobs just to earn even a little spare change.
“Geez, I must have walked around the entire city today, and there’s still no luck!” complained a loud voice echoing his thoughts. Matthew looked up to see his brother entering the room in a typically Alfred, that is to say, noisy, fashion. He looked about as fed up as Matthew felt as he drew out a chair and collapsed into it, shrugging his coat off his shoulders as he did so. “You’d think I would have found something by now,” he pouted, looking put out at the very thought that no one seemed to want to hire him. “Any luck, Mattie?”
Matthew shook his head. “No, nothing.” Alfred sighed again and slumped down onto the table, pillowing his head on his arms.
“Man, this blows,” he groaned. “My feet are killing me after all that walking.”
“Aye,” Brigid said with a playful smile, “And don’t be forgettin’ that ye’ll be doin’ it all over again tomorrow and all.” She reached for an egg as she spoke, and somehow – Matthew had no idea how even though he was looking directly at her – managed to sweep the entire box off the counter and straight onto the floor, creating a rain of falling eggs and an impressive new pattern of decorative splats on the tiled floor. “Oh, drat!”
Matthew and Alfred exchanged a glance, Matthew shaking his head fondly. They’d learnt very quickly over the past few days that although Brigid’s cooking was very good – almost as good as anything that they could get on the surface – her methods were a little… haphazard to say the least. It seemed that she couldn’t go anywhere near a kitchen without breaking an entire box of eggs or spilling a pan of soup that was coming to the boil, or simply just dropping pots and pans onto the floor with an almighty clatter. If what she said was true, though, it was better her approach than that of any of her brothers. With the exception of Connor, the others apparently managed to destroy any foodstuff that was unfortunate or careless enough to come into their hands, although Llewellyn apparently did a mean Welsh rabbit, which aside from a few simple stews was all he had managed to master. After hearing the tales of some of Arthur or Douglas’s horrifying kitchen exploits, a few broken eggs didn’t seem so bad in comparison.
“Want any help cleaning that up?” Alfred offered, sitting up and stretching. Brigid had already gone for the mop and bucket, and shook her head at him.
“Nay, lad, I can take care of a few broken eggs meself,” she assured him, frowning down at the eggs in question as she squeezed out the mop. “Bit annoyin’, though, ‘tis the second lot of eggs I’ve lost this month and they cost an arm and a leg to buy in the first place, they do, even when I go to me most reliable sources.” ‘Reliable sources’ in this case being the various smuggling operations of the city, Matthew had learned. Apparently the toll on imports from the surface was so extortionate that a thriving black market had grown up in the city, if you knew where to look. It somehow wasn’t so surprising anymore that Brigid did know.
“Evening, sis,” said Douglas brusquely as he customarily banged the door open on his way in. He stopped a little way in, grinning at her. “I thought I’d heard ye breakin’ somethin’ on me way in.”
“And I thought I’d been tellin’ ye not to be slammin’ me doors open,” she retorted as she looked up, but she was grinning as well. “Day been alright?”
“Mostly the usual,” Douglas grunted, sweeping his cap off his head. “Had to deal with a few scallies who tried to start a fight over somethin’ daft, but they were soon sorted. Ye’ve got a roarin’ crowd out there tonight, by the way, ye might want to go help poor Llewellyn out there.” He smirked as he shrugged his gloves and coat off. “Poor laddie’s lookin’ a wee bit overwhelmed.”
Brigid laughed as she cleared the last of the eggy mess from the floor. “Aye but Llewellyn’s a big lad and our older brother, he can be handlin’ things just fine,” she chuckled, tucking a stray strand of red hair back behind her ear. “Still, how overwhelmed is ‘overwhelmed’?”
“The kind where he’s beginnin’ to be buried in those what’s after a pint, Erin.”
“Ah. Well if ‘tis that bad, suppose I might have to go help,” she said mock-thoughtfully. Alfred grinned at her. “Mattie, m’dear, empty all this water out back and put away this mop for me, will ye?”
“Sure thing,” he smiled, rising from his seat to take the mop and bucket from her hands. If he couldn’t yet pay her back in money for all of her kindnesses, he reasoned, the very least he could do was small jobs like this. She smiled gratefully at him and brushed her hands on her apron, heading for the door.
“Anything I can do?” Alfred asked hopefully, not wanting to be left out. Despite the fact that she was apparently intimately involved with the man who had threatened him in an alleyway on his first night there, he’d taken as much of a liking to their host as Matthew had, and seemed just as eager to try and please her. Matthew almost couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Brigid had been one of the few people who seemed to notice him more than his brother, and he had to admit that it was nice to get attention for once that didn’t seem to be in some way connected to Alfred. It was silly, he knew, to feel as if Alfred was taking that away from him, but part of him couldn’t help feeling a flash of annoyance whenever it happened. Brigid pursed her lips, her head tilted to one side and her hands on her hips as if thinking.
“Ah, I know what ‘tis ye can be helpin’ me with,” she said brightly after a moment. “Ye can be stoppin’ me twin here from doin’ anythin’ to ruin the food, I cannae be trustin’ him in a kitchen all on his own and no one to watch him.” She flashed a grin at her brother, who rolled his eyes and gestured rudely at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him in return before heading to the door. Matthew smiled at the two of them, hefting the mop in his hands and heading for the back door. Before he left, though, he saw Brigid pause, her hand on the doorframe as something occurred to her.
“Douglas, ye hear anythin’ about Arthur or Conchobhar, or any of that lot while down at the docks today?” she asked quietly, without turning back to him. Douglas sighed slightly and shook his head.
“No, Erin, nothin’.” She nodded, as if she’d been expecting that, and her shoulders slumped ever so slightly.
“Aye, ‘course.”
“Ye’re worryin’ about the neaps, aren’t ye?” She didn’t answer. Matthew hovered uncertainly near the back door with his bucket, knowing he probably shouldn’t be listening to this conversation. Alfred looked almost as uncomfortable, shuffling from foot to foot next to his chair. The truth was, as the days had gone by, Brigid had seemed to get more and more worried about her two brothers. Well, truthfully, Douglas had whispered to him one night, she was more worried about Connor than anyone else, and always did worry when he was out on a voyage with their brother, but she worried about everyone else on that boat all the same. The Unterzee might be “the windless waveless sunless zee” so lauded in many a drunken zailor’s song, but just because there were no storms didn’t mean that it was free of other dangers. Besides which…
“’Tisn’t like Arthur, to let things run so late when workin’,” she said softly by way of reply. Douglas frowned and folded his arms.
“Aye, I know what ye’re thinkin’,” he said. “But whate’er else he is, wee Artie’s a good captain at least, I’ll give the scally wag that much. Might have been delayed, but they’ll all turn up safe and sound, Erin.” He grinned. “And when they do, I’ll beat the stuffin’ out of them both for worryin’ us all.”
Brigid chuckled slightly. “Aye, ‘tis right ye are, Douglas, and I know it. ‘Tis second nature by now to be worryin’ in this city, I suppose.”
“Aye, well don’t,” he said gruffly. “It’ll end up bein’ the death of ye, and ye cannae run a pub while ye are worryin’ ye head about our family.”
“Aye and I know that already, I do.” Brigid sighed shortly and ran a hand through her hair. “Right, I’m off to go save Llewellyn up front, then. Don’t ye be even thinkin’ about touchin’ me potatoes!”
“Christ, Erin, I wasnae even goin’ to go anywhere near your bleedin’ potatoes!” Matthew sighed and shook his head at the two of them before he finally left the room to take care of the mop, just as Brigid left the kitchen in the other direction.
✎ ✎ ✎
Douglas hadn’t been lying, Brigid discovered as she made her way out of the kitchen and slid behind the bar; the place was packed tonight, as packed as she’d ever seen her tiny pub on any night since she’d first opened up the Horse And Harp for business. She supposed that all the zailors, or a good three-fifths of them at the very least, were back from their various trips over the black waters of the zee and celebrating whatever they’d managed to accomplish over there in the best way they knew how; that is, by drinking themselves senseless. Not that she complained about busy nights, far from it, actually; they were excellent for business, after all, even if they did leave her rushed off her feet. No doubt one or two of the more rowdy zee-farers would get drunk enough to challenge her to a drinking contest at some point during the night, she thought with a small smile as she watched a set of zailors doing an impromptu song-and-dance over in one of the far corners. Brigid’s tolerance for alcohol was legendary among the denizens of the Wolfstack Docks, and it had become a tradition in the seven years the pub had been in business for the extremely drunk or foolhardy to challenge her as a test of what had to be either manliness or just plain pigheaded stubbornness. None had yet managed to best her, and she had it on good authority that there was a substantial betting pool open in the underground gambling dens of the city on whether or not anyone ever would. She would admit that it brought a small, satisfied smile to her face to hear that most of the bets were overwhelmingly in her favour.
Llewellyn was looking rather hassled as she picked up a glass and joined him behind the bar, she noticed, although with his easy smile and gentle way with people, it probably wasn’t obvious to anyone who wasn’t family. But then, her eldest brother had never really taken to bar work as much as herself and her twin. He wasn’t really suited to city life and crowded places at all, really, she reflected, let alone the darkness that was London. Llewellyn had been the only one of them born before the city had fallen, and maybe it was because of that, or simply because of some inherent quality that her brother had, but open skies and green fields with very few people at all seemed to suit him a lot better. Or at least, that was the case as far as Brigid was concerned.
She tapped her brother on the shoulder and he turned to smile at her. She grinned back. “A little bird’s been tellin’ me ye be needin’ some help out here, me brother,” she told him, raising her voice slightly over the pub’s noise. His face broke into an amused grin.
“Ah, chwaer, you know that Douglas likes to exaggerate,” he laughed. “Still, I appreciate the help. It’s a good crowd we’ve got in tonight, it is.”
“Aye, and ‘tis me own pub to be startin’ with, so don’t ye be goin’ on to me about helpin’,” she laughed back, prodding his arm as she began pulling pints from a keg of beer behind her. He shook his head at her as he handed over a good armful of drinks to an already-wobbling customer in front of him.
“I’m behind this bar so much that I might as well own it myself,” he teased her gently, before taking the next patron’s order for a bottle of the best mushroom wine they had stored in the pub. Nodding and turning to see just what, exactly, the best wine that they had even was, something seemed to catch his attention on the other side of the bar. “Ah, Brigid, it would seem there’s someone here for you.”
Brigid glanced up curiously from the keg of beer towards where her brother was gesturing, wondering who it could be. Gilbert, perhaps? He still hadn’t returned her knives, after all, and it had been a good two weeks by now since they had seen each other properly. But no; his distinctive white hair was nowhere to be seen. Instead, it was a curly haired, dark eyed Iberian who was carefully shouldering his way through the burly dockhands and zailors to get through to the bar. Brigid smiled; well, one old friend was almost as good as another, she reasoned. “Almost”, of course, in all ways but one. Besides which, she had her own suspicions about what Luís was really doing with himself down here on a night as busy as this. Chatting to her, she knew, would most likely only be the half of it.
“Aye and sure ’tis really just me he’s brought himself down here to be seein’,” she murmured to her brother, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Llewellyn returned her knowing look with one of his own; the both of them knew very well that her old friend was sweet on Arthur in a way that went beyond just friendship. And judging by the way Luís managed to make him blush far more than was regular even for her easily wound-up brother, Brigid had to conclude that Arthur, in his own fumbling and ever so slightly inept way, felt the same way in his turn.
On the surface, and even in the more rarefied circles of society down in the Neath, such a thing of that nature would have been scandalous, to be sure. But down here, where people were known to court devils and Clay Men and even the brothels were overseen and licensed by the iron authority of government, social norms had changed; when the daring or foolhardy were consorting with those that were not even of the same species, concern over courtships between those of the same gender seemed laughable in comparison. And thus, expectations had relaxed; what would have caused outrage up above only caused raised eyebrows and hushed whisperings behind closed doors down below, if that. Besides, they themselves were all skirting the edges of what in any other city would have been called the underworld. Indulging in the various vices life had to offer was in their nature. It was rather sweet, really, Brigid thought, the affection that they had for each other, even if Arthur did rather seem to be in denial of the whole thing as was expected from him. At any rate, she knew Luís well, had done for years now. She could be sure that her brother would be in safe hands with him if anything ever did happen to come of their mutual crush.
“Sorry, have I managed to catch you at a bad time?” Luís asked as he reached the bar in front of her and leaned on it with an apologetic smile. “You certainly seem to be busy tonight.” As if to highlight the truth of his words, there was a great cheer and applause from one of the groups drinking in the pub that night. The cause was immediately apparent; the unfortunate loser in a drinking game between two friends had just keeled over onto the floor as he passed out.
“He’ll be havin’ a hell of a hangover come the mornin’,” Brigid noted casually as she placed another round of pints onto the bar, which were immediately and eagerly snapped up by waiting hands. She wiped her hands down on her apron before turning to her friend properly, leaning on the bar herself as best she could with her height. “And ye should know by now that ‘tis never a bad time for me to be talkin’ with an old friend, Luís.” Her eyes sparkled as she grinned wickedly at him. “Though I imagine ‘tisn’t only me ye were hopin’ to be seein’ tonight, aye?”
Luís blinked at her. “Am I really that transparent?” he asked her after a moment, and she was gratified to hear the slight sheepishness in his otherwise dry reply. She laughed at him, unable to hide her amusement.
“Luís, me dear friend, ye only ever leave your usual haunts up near Veilgarden and Ladybones Road with the gossips and bohemian lot to come down here to the Docks either to see me or me brother, and since ye’re probably sick to death of me face by now after poppin’ in for a quick chat almost every night this week, aye, I’d say that ye are a bit,” she told him.
“Now, on that I’m afraid you are wrong. I could never get sick of seeing your face,” he replied, in what was a fairly obvious but also charmingly graceful dodging of her point. She raised both of her impressive eyebrows at him, and he grinned cheekily.
“Well, it’s completely true,” he laughed. She pouted and prodded his shoulder in annoyance.
“Aye but ye’re a giant flatterer, Luís Valdez.”
“You wound me,” he replied, prodding her arm in retaliation.
“And ye are dodgin’ me point,” she retorted. “Honestly, ‘tis surprised I am that ye haven’t simply made your move yet, since goodness knows me brother won’t ever be gettin’ round to it. Have me blessin’ ye do, if ‘tweren’t already obvious.”
“When he stops making excuses to run away, then maybe I will actually get around to it,” he said with a wry smile. She returned it; now there was her little brother, alright. Perfectly happy to face the untold dangers of the Unterzee and the lands across it without even breaking a sweat, but terrified of facing up to his own emotions. Of course it figured.
“Could always corner him in a locked room,” she suggested with a smirk. “That ‘twould work nicely, aye?” Luís chuckled.
“I’m sure it would, but I’d rather not be accused of unfair coercion,” he pointed out. “I take it that all of this is basically your long-winded way of telling me that he’s still not back yet?”
“Aye,” she admitted after a brief pause. “’Twould be, at that.” A small frown crossed Luís’s face at her words, the levity of the moment before gone in an instant.
“That isn’t like him, to run so late.”
She nodded sombrely, feeling her own mood sink. “Aye, ‘tis the same thought I’ve had. Prides himself on bein’ on time, he does. Douglas says I’m just bein’ a worrywart, but I cannae help meself.”
“Hmm.” The frown deepened in both understanding and worry, and he propped his face in one hand. “I suppose there’s no possibility that they might have simply got lost out there.”
The two of them exchanged a look that clearly expressed how likely they thought this possibility was. “… well, maybe not,” he concluded. “But I like that possibility better than most of the alternatives.”
“Aye,” she sighed heavily, “I can agree with ye there.” She seemed to ponder that for a moment, fingernails absent-mindedly tapping out a rhythm on the bar. “Maybe I should get Tino involved,” she muttered, as if thinking aloud. “Knows how to be gettin’ people to be lookin’ into things and goin’ where he wants them to to get hold of information, he does, if any of his people or his people’s people know what ‘tis that’s goin’ on with that boat, he’ll know it by tomorrow.”
“Tino?” he repeated, a small frown coming back over his face again. “Tino Väinämöinen? The Great Game operative?”
“Oh, don’t ye be makin’ that face, Tino and me go quite a ways back,” Brigid said dismissively, waving a hand. “Just ‘cause he’s playin’ the Game doesn’t mean he cannae be trusted, and he’s a sweet a friend as ye could be wantin’ besides. Watches wee Peter for me when there’s a rough crowd in here sometimes, ye know.”
“Forgive me if I don’t quite share your confidence,” he frowned, folding his arms. “People in that Game stab each other in the back all of the time, you know they do.”
“Aye and d’ye really think I’d be friendly with someone I thought was a backstabber?” she asked, annoyed. “Tino and his group value loyalty, aye they do, and they’ve always been sweet to wee Peter when they have him, kept him out of trouble. Oh to be sure ‘tis the one time he asked if I’d be willin’ to join their group and play the Game, but I didn’t much fancy the idea of bein’ a pawn in that thing, and he’s never asked me again. Besides, he owes me some favours. I’d just be callin’ them in, I would.”
“Hmm,” Luís said doubtfully. “Well, if you’re sure that you know what you’re doing, it’s not as if I have any right to stop you.” He didn’t sound very convinced.
“Don’t ye be startin’ that on me,” she said crossly. “Ye know fine well I can handle meself, and I wouldn’t be askin’ him if I weren’t trustin’ him now, would I?”
“It’s not so much him that I’m worried about as the people he has working for him.”
“Well then, if ye have any better ideas, I’d love to be hearin’ them.”
“Well, as a matter of fact I don’t,” he replied, throwing his hands up slightly. “We don’t all have the luxury of knowing half of the city like you do.”
“Then don’t ye be criticisin’ me, then! Honestly, ‘tis not as if I’m askin’ any great favour of him that’d leave me horribly in his debt, ‘tis only for a few extra eyes and ears.”
“I know,” Luís sighed. “I’d only rather you didn’t end up inadvertently crossing anyone in the Great Game, that’s all.”
“Aye. And I know that ye’re only concerned,” she said with a somewhat exasperated smile. “But ye’re not needin’ to be. Survived down here this long, now haven’t I?”
“Don’t start tempting fate,” he warned her with a wry smile of his own. “I’ll keep an ear out for anything I might overhear myself, shall I?”
“Aye, ye better had,” she nodded. “And if they get back safe and sound and it turns out that they were just dawdlin’ or gettin’ lost on their way back, ‘tis the hardest smack of his life I’ll be givin’ me brother for worryin’ us all for nothin’.”
“And if they get back and it turns out that they did run into something more dangerous than the usual out there?”
Brigid’s smile was playful, but her eyes were deadly serious. “Then I’ll be givin’ him a smack for bein’ stupid enough to get him and all the rest of them into that much trouble.”
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia/Echo Bazaar
Characters: Every nation ever at one point or another. This part: Canada, America, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Portugal.
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter.
Summary: An Echo Bazaar crossover AU. Fallen London: once capital of the British Empire, now home of the Bazaar, a mile underground and a boat ride away from Hell itself. Deep. Dark. Expensive. Marvellous. Here you can find everything from immortality, to unnervingly good mushroom wine.
Or so the stories go.
But stories can rarely be trusted, and all the wildest stories in the world couldn’t have prepared Alfred and Matthew Jones for what they would find when they descended into the fallen city on a journey that would lead them right into the heart of a rebellion against the Masters of the Bazaar themselves…
Word Count: This part: 4415
Notes: Once again, the continuation of the long haul that started as my NaNo project for last year. :'> The title is from an HP Lovecraft quote, “We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.”
Warnings: General warnings: A crossover with a (very addictive) online game, a lot of speculation and elaboration on my part on the universe of that game, human!AU, the occasional bit of 1800s sensibilities, and later on in the fic, a lot of OCs. :’> This chapter: NaNo quality writing, bad accents, my shipping bias finally rearing its ugly head, and what is mostly a filler chapter. ^^
Matthew sighed and struck another line through another name on his list. “It looks like it’s another lost cause,” he told Brigid with a glum face. “That jeweller near Ladybones Road said that she wasn’t hiring anyone right now either.”
He was sat at the kitchen table of the pub again with a small handwritten list in front of him and a small, stubby pencil in hand. He’d just collapsed back into the pub after another frustrating and ultimately fruitless day of searching for a job. Since finding themselves stranded down in the fallen city – had it really only been a few days ago? It somehow felt like it had been a lot longer – both Matthew and his brother had decided that the best thing either of them could do was try and find some way to pay their way while they were down here. They’d both agreed that they owed money to Brigid for the use of her pub as their lodgings, and more than that, they knew that if they were ever going to make it back to the surface, they would probably have to pay, and Matthew didn’t have high hopes of it being cheap. Besides, if he was working, he wouldn’t have as much time to make himself depressed over their situation. And on Alfred’s part, maybe, just maybe, finding a job would keep his brother out of trouble. Brigid had agreed that it was a good idea and sent them both off with a list of all the places she knew that they might find work, and so here they were, six days on and still with no success. Alfred wasn’t even back yet from his own day of searching. Matthew wondered if his brother was having any more luck today than he was.
“Don’t be feelin’ too disheartened, Matthew,” Brigid said to him, turning from her position at the stove to smile at him. “Takes a while to find a job in any city, it does, and more so in London. ‘Tisn’t really gold that the streets here are paved with, never has been, and ‘tis even more true since the city ‘twas moved down here. Just don’t be givin’ up now, y’hear?”
He smiled at her. “I know,” he told her, but truthfully, he was feeling a little disheartened. He couldn’t help it. He must have tried dozens upon dozens of places in the city already, and there was still nothing. At the moment, he thought, playing with the pencil in his hand, he’d be happy to take on odd jobs just to earn even a little spare change.
“Geez, I must have walked around the entire city today, and there’s still no luck!” complained a loud voice echoing his thoughts. Matthew looked up to see his brother entering the room in a typically Alfred, that is to say, noisy, fashion. He looked about as fed up as Matthew felt as he drew out a chair and collapsed into it, shrugging his coat off his shoulders as he did so. “You’d think I would have found something by now,” he pouted, looking put out at the very thought that no one seemed to want to hire him. “Any luck, Mattie?”
Matthew shook his head. “No, nothing.” Alfred sighed again and slumped down onto the table, pillowing his head on his arms.
“Man, this blows,” he groaned. “My feet are killing me after all that walking.”
“Aye,” Brigid said with a playful smile, “And don’t be forgettin’ that ye’ll be doin’ it all over again tomorrow and all.” She reached for an egg as she spoke, and somehow – Matthew had no idea how even though he was looking directly at her – managed to sweep the entire box off the counter and straight onto the floor, creating a rain of falling eggs and an impressive new pattern of decorative splats on the tiled floor. “Oh, drat!”
Matthew and Alfred exchanged a glance, Matthew shaking his head fondly. They’d learnt very quickly over the past few days that although Brigid’s cooking was very good – almost as good as anything that they could get on the surface – her methods were a little… haphazard to say the least. It seemed that she couldn’t go anywhere near a kitchen without breaking an entire box of eggs or spilling a pan of soup that was coming to the boil, or simply just dropping pots and pans onto the floor with an almighty clatter. If what she said was true, though, it was better her approach than that of any of her brothers. With the exception of Connor, the others apparently managed to destroy any foodstuff that was unfortunate or careless enough to come into their hands, although Llewellyn apparently did a mean Welsh rabbit, which aside from a few simple stews was all he had managed to master. After hearing the tales of some of Arthur or Douglas’s horrifying kitchen exploits, a few broken eggs didn’t seem so bad in comparison.
“Want any help cleaning that up?” Alfred offered, sitting up and stretching. Brigid had already gone for the mop and bucket, and shook her head at him.
“Nay, lad, I can take care of a few broken eggs meself,” she assured him, frowning down at the eggs in question as she squeezed out the mop. “Bit annoyin’, though, ‘tis the second lot of eggs I’ve lost this month and they cost an arm and a leg to buy in the first place, they do, even when I go to me most reliable sources.” ‘Reliable sources’ in this case being the various smuggling operations of the city, Matthew had learned. Apparently the toll on imports from the surface was so extortionate that a thriving black market had grown up in the city, if you knew where to look. It somehow wasn’t so surprising anymore that Brigid did know.
“Evening, sis,” said Douglas brusquely as he customarily banged the door open on his way in. He stopped a little way in, grinning at her. “I thought I’d heard ye breakin’ somethin’ on me way in.”
“And I thought I’d been tellin’ ye not to be slammin’ me doors open,” she retorted as she looked up, but she was grinning as well. “Day been alright?”
“Mostly the usual,” Douglas grunted, sweeping his cap off his head. “Had to deal with a few scallies who tried to start a fight over somethin’ daft, but they were soon sorted. Ye’ve got a roarin’ crowd out there tonight, by the way, ye might want to go help poor Llewellyn out there.” He smirked as he shrugged his gloves and coat off. “Poor laddie’s lookin’ a wee bit overwhelmed.”
Brigid laughed as she cleared the last of the eggy mess from the floor. “Aye but Llewellyn’s a big lad and our older brother, he can be handlin’ things just fine,” she chuckled, tucking a stray strand of red hair back behind her ear. “Still, how overwhelmed is ‘overwhelmed’?”
“The kind where he’s beginnin’ to be buried in those what’s after a pint, Erin.”
“Ah. Well if ‘tis that bad, suppose I might have to go help,” she said mock-thoughtfully. Alfred grinned at her. “Mattie, m’dear, empty all this water out back and put away this mop for me, will ye?”
“Sure thing,” he smiled, rising from his seat to take the mop and bucket from her hands. If he couldn’t yet pay her back in money for all of her kindnesses, he reasoned, the very least he could do was small jobs like this. She smiled gratefully at him and brushed her hands on her apron, heading for the door.
“Anything I can do?” Alfred asked hopefully, not wanting to be left out. Despite the fact that she was apparently intimately involved with the man who had threatened him in an alleyway on his first night there, he’d taken as much of a liking to their host as Matthew had, and seemed just as eager to try and please her. Matthew almost couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Brigid had been one of the few people who seemed to notice him more than his brother, and he had to admit that it was nice to get attention for once that didn’t seem to be in some way connected to Alfred. It was silly, he knew, to feel as if Alfred was taking that away from him, but part of him couldn’t help feeling a flash of annoyance whenever it happened. Brigid pursed her lips, her head tilted to one side and her hands on her hips as if thinking.
“Ah, I know what ‘tis ye can be helpin’ me with,” she said brightly after a moment. “Ye can be stoppin’ me twin here from doin’ anythin’ to ruin the food, I cannae be trustin’ him in a kitchen all on his own and no one to watch him.” She flashed a grin at her brother, who rolled his eyes and gestured rudely at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him in return before heading to the door. Matthew smiled at the two of them, hefting the mop in his hands and heading for the back door. Before he left, though, he saw Brigid pause, her hand on the doorframe as something occurred to her.
“Douglas, ye hear anythin’ about Arthur or Conchobhar, or any of that lot while down at the docks today?” she asked quietly, without turning back to him. Douglas sighed slightly and shook his head.
“No, Erin, nothin’.” She nodded, as if she’d been expecting that, and her shoulders slumped ever so slightly.
“Aye, ‘course.”
“Ye’re worryin’ about the neaps, aren’t ye?” She didn’t answer. Matthew hovered uncertainly near the back door with his bucket, knowing he probably shouldn’t be listening to this conversation. Alfred looked almost as uncomfortable, shuffling from foot to foot next to his chair. The truth was, as the days had gone by, Brigid had seemed to get more and more worried about her two brothers. Well, truthfully, Douglas had whispered to him one night, she was more worried about Connor than anyone else, and always did worry when he was out on a voyage with their brother, but she worried about everyone else on that boat all the same. The Unterzee might be “the windless waveless sunless zee” so lauded in many a drunken zailor’s song, but just because there were no storms didn’t mean that it was free of other dangers. Besides which…
“’Tisn’t like Arthur, to let things run so late when workin’,” she said softly by way of reply. Douglas frowned and folded his arms.
“Aye, I know what ye’re thinkin’,” he said. “But whate’er else he is, wee Artie’s a good captain at least, I’ll give the scally wag that much. Might have been delayed, but they’ll all turn up safe and sound, Erin.” He grinned. “And when they do, I’ll beat the stuffin’ out of them both for worryin’ us all.”
Brigid chuckled slightly. “Aye, ‘tis right ye are, Douglas, and I know it. ‘Tis second nature by now to be worryin’ in this city, I suppose.”
“Aye, well don’t,” he said gruffly. “It’ll end up bein’ the death of ye, and ye cannae run a pub while ye are worryin’ ye head about our family.”
“Aye and I know that already, I do.” Brigid sighed shortly and ran a hand through her hair. “Right, I’m off to go save Llewellyn up front, then. Don’t ye be even thinkin’ about touchin’ me potatoes!”
“Christ, Erin, I wasnae even goin’ to go anywhere near your bleedin’ potatoes!” Matthew sighed and shook his head at the two of them before he finally left the room to take care of the mop, just as Brigid left the kitchen in the other direction.
Douglas hadn’t been lying, Brigid discovered as she made her way out of the kitchen and slid behind the bar; the place was packed tonight, as packed as she’d ever seen her tiny pub on any night since she’d first opened up the Horse And Harp for business. She supposed that all the zailors, or a good three-fifths of them at the very least, were back from their various trips over the black waters of the zee and celebrating whatever they’d managed to accomplish over there in the best way they knew how; that is, by drinking themselves senseless. Not that she complained about busy nights, far from it, actually; they were excellent for business, after all, even if they did leave her rushed off her feet. No doubt one or two of the more rowdy zee-farers would get drunk enough to challenge her to a drinking contest at some point during the night, she thought with a small smile as she watched a set of zailors doing an impromptu song-and-dance over in one of the far corners. Brigid’s tolerance for alcohol was legendary among the denizens of the Wolfstack Docks, and it had become a tradition in the seven years the pub had been in business for the extremely drunk or foolhardy to challenge her as a test of what had to be either manliness or just plain pigheaded stubbornness. None had yet managed to best her, and she had it on good authority that there was a substantial betting pool open in the underground gambling dens of the city on whether or not anyone ever would. She would admit that it brought a small, satisfied smile to her face to hear that most of the bets were overwhelmingly in her favour.
Llewellyn was looking rather hassled as she picked up a glass and joined him behind the bar, she noticed, although with his easy smile and gentle way with people, it probably wasn’t obvious to anyone who wasn’t family. But then, her eldest brother had never really taken to bar work as much as herself and her twin. He wasn’t really suited to city life and crowded places at all, really, she reflected, let alone the darkness that was London. Llewellyn had been the only one of them born before the city had fallen, and maybe it was because of that, or simply because of some inherent quality that her brother had, but open skies and green fields with very few people at all seemed to suit him a lot better. Or at least, that was the case as far as Brigid was concerned.
She tapped her brother on the shoulder and he turned to smile at her. She grinned back. “A little bird’s been tellin’ me ye be needin’ some help out here, me brother,” she told him, raising her voice slightly over the pub’s noise. His face broke into an amused grin.
“Ah, chwaer, you know that Douglas likes to exaggerate,” he laughed. “Still, I appreciate the help. It’s a good crowd we’ve got in tonight, it is.”
“Aye, and ‘tis me own pub to be startin’ with, so don’t ye be goin’ on to me about helpin’,” she laughed back, prodding his arm as she began pulling pints from a keg of beer behind her. He shook his head at her as he handed over a good armful of drinks to an already-wobbling customer in front of him.
“I’m behind this bar so much that I might as well own it myself,” he teased her gently, before taking the next patron’s order for a bottle of the best mushroom wine they had stored in the pub. Nodding and turning to see just what, exactly, the best wine that they had even was, something seemed to catch his attention on the other side of the bar. “Ah, Brigid, it would seem there’s someone here for you.”
Brigid glanced up curiously from the keg of beer towards where her brother was gesturing, wondering who it could be. Gilbert, perhaps? He still hadn’t returned her knives, after all, and it had been a good two weeks by now since they had seen each other properly. But no; his distinctive white hair was nowhere to be seen. Instead, it was a curly haired, dark eyed Iberian who was carefully shouldering his way through the burly dockhands and zailors to get through to the bar. Brigid smiled; well, one old friend was almost as good as another, she reasoned. “Almost”, of course, in all ways but one. Besides which, she had her own suspicions about what Luís was really doing with himself down here on a night as busy as this. Chatting to her, she knew, would most likely only be the half of it.
“Aye and sure ’tis really just me he’s brought himself down here to be seein’,” she murmured to her brother, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Llewellyn returned her knowing look with one of his own; the both of them knew very well that her old friend was sweet on Arthur in a way that went beyond just friendship. And judging by the way Luís managed to make him blush far more than was regular even for her easily wound-up brother, Brigid had to conclude that Arthur, in his own fumbling and ever so slightly inept way, felt the same way in his turn.
On the surface, and even in the more rarefied circles of society down in the Neath, such a thing of that nature would have been scandalous, to be sure. But down here, where people were known to court devils and Clay Men and even the brothels were overseen and licensed by the iron authority of government, social norms had changed; when the daring or foolhardy were consorting with those that were not even of the same species, concern over courtships between those of the same gender seemed laughable in comparison. And thus, expectations had relaxed; what would have caused outrage up above only caused raised eyebrows and hushed whisperings behind closed doors down below, if that. Besides, they themselves were all skirting the edges of what in any other city would have been called the underworld. Indulging in the various vices life had to offer was in their nature. It was rather sweet, really, Brigid thought, the affection that they had for each other, even if Arthur did rather seem to be in denial of the whole thing as was expected from him. At any rate, she knew Luís well, had done for years now. She could be sure that her brother would be in safe hands with him if anything ever did happen to come of their mutual crush.
“Sorry, have I managed to catch you at a bad time?” Luís asked as he reached the bar in front of her and leaned on it with an apologetic smile. “You certainly seem to be busy tonight.” As if to highlight the truth of his words, there was a great cheer and applause from one of the groups drinking in the pub that night. The cause was immediately apparent; the unfortunate loser in a drinking game between two friends had just keeled over onto the floor as he passed out.
“He’ll be havin’ a hell of a hangover come the mornin’,” Brigid noted casually as she placed another round of pints onto the bar, which were immediately and eagerly snapped up by waiting hands. She wiped her hands down on her apron before turning to her friend properly, leaning on the bar herself as best she could with her height. “And ye should know by now that ‘tis never a bad time for me to be talkin’ with an old friend, Luís.” Her eyes sparkled as she grinned wickedly at him. “Though I imagine ‘tisn’t only me ye were hopin’ to be seein’ tonight, aye?”
Luís blinked at her. “Am I really that transparent?” he asked her after a moment, and she was gratified to hear the slight sheepishness in his otherwise dry reply. She laughed at him, unable to hide her amusement.
“Luís, me dear friend, ye only ever leave your usual haunts up near Veilgarden and Ladybones Road with the gossips and bohemian lot to come down here to the Docks either to see me or me brother, and since ye’re probably sick to death of me face by now after poppin’ in for a quick chat almost every night this week, aye, I’d say that ye are a bit,” she told him.
“Now, on that I’m afraid you are wrong. I could never get sick of seeing your face,” he replied, in what was a fairly obvious but also charmingly graceful dodging of her point. She raised both of her impressive eyebrows at him, and he grinned cheekily.
“Well, it’s completely true,” he laughed. She pouted and prodded his shoulder in annoyance.
“Aye but ye’re a giant flatterer, Luís Valdez.”
“You wound me,” he replied, prodding her arm in retaliation.
“And ye are dodgin’ me point,” she retorted. “Honestly, ‘tis surprised I am that ye haven’t simply made your move yet, since goodness knows me brother won’t ever be gettin’ round to it. Have me blessin’ ye do, if ‘tweren’t already obvious.”
“When he stops making excuses to run away, then maybe I will actually get around to it,” he said with a wry smile. She returned it; now there was her little brother, alright. Perfectly happy to face the untold dangers of the Unterzee and the lands across it without even breaking a sweat, but terrified of facing up to his own emotions. Of course it figured.
“Could always corner him in a locked room,” she suggested with a smirk. “That ‘twould work nicely, aye?” Luís chuckled.
“I’m sure it would, but I’d rather not be accused of unfair coercion,” he pointed out. “I take it that all of this is basically your long-winded way of telling me that he’s still not back yet?”
“Aye,” she admitted after a brief pause. “’Twould be, at that.” A small frown crossed Luís’s face at her words, the levity of the moment before gone in an instant.
“That isn’t like him, to run so late.”
She nodded sombrely, feeling her own mood sink. “Aye, ‘tis the same thought I’ve had. Prides himself on bein’ on time, he does. Douglas says I’m just bein’ a worrywart, but I cannae help meself.”
“Hmm.” The frown deepened in both understanding and worry, and he propped his face in one hand. “I suppose there’s no possibility that they might have simply got lost out there.”
The two of them exchanged a look that clearly expressed how likely they thought this possibility was. “… well, maybe not,” he concluded. “But I like that possibility better than most of the alternatives.”
“Aye,” she sighed heavily, “I can agree with ye there.” She seemed to ponder that for a moment, fingernails absent-mindedly tapping out a rhythm on the bar. “Maybe I should get Tino involved,” she muttered, as if thinking aloud. “Knows how to be gettin’ people to be lookin’ into things and goin’ where he wants them to to get hold of information, he does, if any of his people or his people’s people know what ‘tis that’s goin’ on with that boat, he’ll know it by tomorrow.”
“Tino?” he repeated, a small frown coming back over his face again. “Tino Väinämöinen? The Great Game operative?”
“Oh, don’t ye be makin’ that face, Tino and me go quite a ways back,” Brigid said dismissively, waving a hand. “Just ‘cause he’s playin’ the Game doesn’t mean he cannae be trusted, and he’s a sweet a friend as ye could be wantin’ besides. Watches wee Peter for me when there’s a rough crowd in here sometimes, ye know.”
“Forgive me if I don’t quite share your confidence,” he frowned, folding his arms. “People in that Game stab each other in the back all of the time, you know they do.”
“Aye and d’ye really think I’d be friendly with someone I thought was a backstabber?” she asked, annoyed. “Tino and his group value loyalty, aye they do, and they’ve always been sweet to wee Peter when they have him, kept him out of trouble. Oh to be sure ‘tis the one time he asked if I’d be willin’ to join their group and play the Game, but I didn’t much fancy the idea of bein’ a pawn in that thing, and he’s never asked me again. Besides, he owes me some favours. I’d just be callin’ them in, I would.”
“Hmm,” Luís said doubtfully. “Well, if you’re sure that you know what you’re doing, it’s not as if I have any right to stop you.” He didn’t sound very convinced.
“Don’t ye be startin’ that on me,” she said crossly. “Ye know fine well I can handle meself, and I wouldn’t be askin’ him if I weren’t trustin’ him now, would I?”
“It’s not so much him that I’m worried about as the people he has working for him.”
“Well then, if ye have any better ideas, I’d love to be hearin’ them.”
“Well, as a matter of fact I don’t,” he replied, throwing his hands up slightly. “We don’t all have the luxury of knowing half of the city like you do.”
“Then don’t ye be criticisin’ me, then! Honestly, ‘tis not as if I’m askin’ any great favour of him that’d leave me horribly in his debt, ‘tis only for a few extra eyes and ears.”
“I know,” Luís sighed. “I’d only rather you didn’t end up inadvertently crossing anyone in the Great Game, that’s all.”
“Aye. And I know that ye’re only concerned,” she said with a somewhat exasperated smile. “But ye’re not needin’ to be. Survived down here this long, now haven’t I?”
“Don’t start tempting fate,” he warned her with a wry smile of his own. “I’ll keep an ear out for anything I might overhear myself, shall I?”
“Aye, ye better had,” she nodded. “And if they get back safe and sound and it turns out that they were just dawdlin’ or gettin’ lost on their way back, ‘tis the hardest smack of his life I’ll be givin’ me brother for worryin’ us all for nothin’.”
“And if they get back and it turns out that they did run into something more dangerous than the usual out there?”
Brigid’s smile was playful, but her eyes were deadly serious. “Then I’ll be givin’ him a smack for bein’ stupid enough to get him and all the rest of them into that much trouble.”
no subject
Why yes, I did just read all ten parts in one go. Why yes I enjoyed immensely. :D
*fav'ed*