milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Avar, king and captain and former quick-tempered and great-hearted boy, refuses to be cowed by the strangeness that seems to be stalking himself and his family--most particularly his son.

And so he is once again in the bar, cutlass at his belt, and dinner on the table. The remains of dinner, at the least.

He is reading. It looks to be a foreign language dictionary, though one language would not be recognized by anyone from Earth.

'Back to basics' is apparently the catchphrase of the day.

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Back to basics is a good idea- except that Wellard had gotten this english dictionary to try to understand a girl who spoke perfectly good english. ... Really.

Nonetheless, he does have a dictionary to use, and basics are all quite well and good. Particularly for the both of them exchanging labled ship drawings back and forth, and measurements and so on.

Meaning to say, here is Wellard ready for a language exchange lesson.

Avar looks up, wary for a moment until he registers that it is Wellard approaching.

"Hello!"

He holds up the book, a little, and turns the page.

"I've taken your advice to heart, Wellard, though the going is slow."

"That is totally understood, sir." Wellard nods, setting down his own dictionary. "Though at least the numbers are quite a bit easier to translate across. I think my tutors would still be desparing of me for that, however." A bit of a wry smile.

Avar smiles, teeth flashing in his dark face.

"Mine would, I fear, be much the same. Though surprisingly it became easier as I got older. Likely a matter of discipline and determination."

"Perhaps." Wellard's lips twitch, holding back a grin. "And at least here its actually useful for something, rather than trying to learn ancient greek or latin." He shakes his head.

Avar looks bewildered, but politely so.

"Ancient languages are occasionally troublesome, I give you that."

"They are- and are unfortunatly the sort of thing most everyone feels that you must learn if you have an education, but I never found a way to use them in the navy, however. The bit of French I did manage to learn was more useful, considering we were at war with the French." He shrugs, shaking his head.

"The math for the navigation was probably the most useful thing I learned, before."

"Was that your role on-ship, then? Or was it training for another post?"

Avar sets the dictionary down, turning it so Wellard has a better view.

"All officers were to learn navigation, among other things." He frowns faintly, thinking, and shrugs.

"It was something I was good at, at least."

"I would certainly call that a wise move. Though I do pity those with no head for such things."

He smiles then, expression kind.

"One thing among many, I'm sure."

"Which were a good many of the other midshipmen, but... Well, usually the leuitenants would be the ones to teach us such things, in classes between duties. At least on a normal ship." Another frown, as he eyes the books.

Avar's eyes catch the frown, and he leans over a little more.

To study the book, of course.

"A normal ship?"

"Well, the Renown..." He bites his lip. "The captain, you see, he wasn't-"

("Another twenty and he'll coo like a dove.")

"-He wasn't well. So a good many things weren't quite done as they should have been."

"Ah. A poor captain has ever been a curse."

"He had been considered one of the best, rather." Quietly, flipping through some pages.

"One of Nelson's own. ... Admiral Nelson is considered one of the best men in the navy, Mister Avar, and Captian Sawyer helped him in his battles."

"Victory in battles sometimes has little to do with the leading of men off of the field."

Avar watches Wellard carefully.

"He- he had gone mad, sir. That.... was probably much to do with it. He set us about attacking the fort, when our cannons couldn't be angled high enough to even reach up the cliffs." He shakes his head.

Avar's shoulders stiffen.

"A mad captain? I am sorry, Wellard."

"Its not-" He blinks, shaking his head quickly, eyes still on the book.

"Its not anything at all now, really, sir."

Avar makes a vague noise. It might be affirmative.

"As you say, Wellard."

His eyes, though, are very dark and sad as he watches the boy.

But only for a moment.

He nods again, swallowing hard.

"And- and its over with, by any rate."

Avar reaches out to rest his hand reassuringly on Wellard's shoulder.

"Yes. Best to leave it where it belongs. Forgive me for pressing, it is not my place."

He startles faintly, but then shakes his head.

"Its-... its the past. Its alright." He dreges up a smile. "Nothing at all to worry about, Mister Avar."

"I will trust your word in this, Wellard."

For the moment, at least.

But somewhere there is someone who can explain, and Avar will find them. He can't help if he doesn't know what the problem is.

There is a quick nod, his eyes meeting Avar's for the briefest moment, before looking back to the book. New subject, please.

Avar nods once, leaning back over the books.

"Where do you think it is best for us to begin? It has been some time since I was last required to study."

"The numbers, I would think." He nods a bit, taking out a small slate and chalk. "They don't tend to change around, at least."

Avar smiles slightly.

"You make a very good point. Shipboard dimensions, then?"

He nods slowly thinking.

"... What are the sort of measurements you use, sir? I don't quite think they'd be the same."

"I don't think it likely, either."

Avar leans a little further, sketching out lines with his fingers.

This explanation, it seems, might take some time.

Fortunate that they both have it to spare, really.

And then some.

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