| Tuesday 15 September 1942 |
[Sep. 21st, 2008|07:27 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  angry | ] |
The captain was in the business of strays and waifs too, not that he'd ever have admitted it, but not like this. Now the strays and waifs are in charge of us. Sándor is a good doctor and a good man, but he is as un-war-hardened as they come, among those who have seen what he's seen, except that is for Kenjiro. Sharolt is what you get when you don't get hard, when you don't think you need to, because of what you can do. (Andromeda, I pray every day that you're long dead by now, and not for the reasons you'd have thought.) And now we have two more little kittens to house: the man who doesn't believe in the magic his own hands can work, and, of all things, a goddamn pacifist.
Fife thinks that this is a good sign, that someone will want them back. And certainly someone will, but Britannia Nova didn't know what they had and the Axis did. Much like the Axis wants their broken girl-goddess back, and the boy who knows where to find what people need. I'd hide them, and I'd fight for them, because the captain would have done it, denying it every step of the way. But I don't trust them to hide me.
If this is a job, I want to do the job. If this is my crew, I want to lead my crew.
If there's something for me to do, I'd like to know what it is. And then do it. |
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